The Wind Walker
by PSYchOtiC-teNdencieS
Summary: "The boy started and scurried back as the monster shifted against the ropes. Gasping back panic, Hiccup redrew the knife, directing it at the head emerging from underneath the devil-like wings. His wide myrtle eyes met a piercing yellow gaze, and the weapon slid from his fingers." An A/U retelling of the tale with anthropomorphic Toothless. M/M, dark, pretentious... all that.
1. The Downed Dragon

**A/n: **So I've noticed that anthro-Toothless stories tend to start with Toothless all dragony and then POP! Suddenly he's anthropomorphic! Because a wizard did it. ¬_¬

I've never actually seen a story wherein his _only_ form was anthropomorphic, from the beginning. So, as they say, if you want something done, do it yourself. :P Enjoy!

* * *

Hiccup's hands trembled. Pressed between them, his tiny hunter's knife glinted harmlessly from his unsteady grasp at the winged beast before him. The monstrosity lay ensnared in a bola sling – in _Hiccup's_ bola sling. He was too small and graceless to throw one, as the warriors of his village might, so the young blacksmith had built a contraption to launch the sling for him. That morning, the machine had found its mark.

The boy crept towards the downed dragon, half-expecting it to break from its bonds within an eye-blink and douse him in flame. But the obscured black bulk lay still and tangled. Hiccup started to smile, and remembered to breathe again. At last, he had done it. No longer would he be the mark of every trick and taunt in his village. It no longer mattered how scrawny he may be, or how far his thoughts wandered, or how strange and wry was his wit. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III had killed his first dragon, and his father could finally be proud.

It was unlike any dragon Hiccup had ever seen. No one had downed a Night Fury before, and the creature only attacked in darkness, when no eyes could discern more than a vague black shape in the gloomy heavens. Its exact features were unknown to the Vikings, and from where Hiccup stood, he could not make out much more than a smallish form beneath the massive wings.

Hiccup lowered the knife and approached his kill with easy strides, too excited to practice care. "This fixes everything!" he could not help exclaiming aloud, pushing back a handful of auburn bangs from his face.

Then the bound beast stirred.

The boy started and scurried back as the monster shifted against the ropes. Gasping back panic, Hiccup redrew the knife, directing it at the head emerging from underneath the devil-like wings. His wide myrtle eyes met a piercing yellow gaze, and the weapon slid from his fingers.

A man's face stared into his – not a man, not _all_ man. It was littered with tiny black scales, so small and numerous they could almost pass for flesh, except for the way they glistened in the light. The nose was almost flat, small reptilian slits for nostrils, and in the midst of vivid yellow were narrow, cat-like pupils.

Above short tufts of dark hair, two small horns protruded, and on either side of them long ears flattened back against the dragon-man's skull. A slight roundness in the curve of its cheeks suggested youth. It was so human and also so not and it made Hiccup's head spin.

The bewildered human fumbled to recover his knife. It made no difference what form evil chose. A demon lay before him, and it was his time to strike. He breathed, and clenched the knife. "I'm going to kill you, dragon," he promised. "I'll tear your heart out and bring it to my father."

Hiccup lifted his weapon. He breathed again, eyes closing. "I'm a Viking," he whispered to himself. "I am a Viking!" he repeated, glaring at the creature. It stared back motionlessly. The boy pried his eyes away and positioned his knife to deliver the blow, but he could not keep his gaze from returning to the demon's frozen expression.

Its un-scaled lips were tight, the entire face still. But the eyes, those deep yellow eyes widened. Rushing into them and filling every inch, past the brim, was... _fear_. The creature released a small, sad groan, and then the abomination of land and sky closed its strange eyes and turned its face away from the Viking's blade. It— _he_ was just as terrified as Hiccup.

The boy's hands fell to his sides. He stumbled back from the powerless being, eyeing the thick twine wound tightly against the dark body. "I did this," he whispered.

In his village, every Viking child eagerly awaited the day they spilled the guts of their first kill. Adulthood only came with the anointment of dragon blood, dripping from spears, splashed against shields, and smeared onto hard, hot faces. Hiccup dreamed the ritual would prove his worth to the Vikings, show his father that he too was a warrior to be feared by evil. But he had always been too mild, too unsure and too curious to follow the warrior's path, and he could not help but see himself in his enemy's pale eyes.

Hiccup sighed. His insides twisted. He couldn't take a defenseless creature's life, but he couldn't leave it in his trap either. The boy's brows gathered and he set his jaw. Crouching beside the beast, he brandished his weapon and began to saw at the dragon's bonds.

The creature's eyes shot open.

When the last rope broke free, cold fingers suddenly seized Hiccup's throat. Faster than the bat of an eyelid, the monster slammed the boy back into the ground with inhuman might. Hiccup gasped for air under its clawed grasp as the lean creature loomed over his smaller body. It peered fiercely down at the little human prey pinned beneath it, suspicion and incomprehension shifting in the lines of that strange face. The boy flinched under its glare, eyes round and bulging with dread.

The Night Fury's lips pulled back and bared its jagged teeth in a horrible smile. Its head drew back as though preparing to strike, gigantic wings unfurling behind. Hiccup cringed. It dove forward and released an ear-splitting cry unlike the call of any other creature known to Hiccup. Then the fingers at Hiccup's throat loosened, and the monster sprang off of the boy and into the air, flying haphazardly away.

Hiccup pushed himself to his elbows and watched the dragon depart, stunned. Then, with a groan, he fell back against the ground, clutching at his heaving chest. He almost thought his heart might pound right through the flesh and bone. After a moment, he shakily rose to his feet and began the walk back to his village, but his vision grayed and his legs failed to keep him upright. The boy collapsed, and darkness overcame him.

* * *

**A/n: **Hm, came out a little gorier than I intended... ._.

No, this story is not finished. I'll try to get it rolling at an acceptable pace. Review! Flame! Anything, I don't care! :B


	2. Cornered and Wounded

**A/n:** Thanks so much for the kind reviews! :D

_Yume Li_ : Yes, the basic plot in this is essentially the same as the movie. The difference is in the world of story and the characters. There are a few totally different scenes from the original, all the character relationships are a little more screwy, and the characters themselves are kind of more grim (in Hiccup's case there's a bit less snark and a little more emotional vulnerability, etc.).

_Final Syai_ : You're totally right, there isn't really gore, now I think about it... I just meant slightly more than in the original. Like the actual acknowledgment that blood exists. :B And of course you found this portrayal of Toothless to be exceptionally weird when my specific goal in this fic was to make anthro-Toothless more accessible. Doh, fail! XP Well I guess he _was _supposed to be eerie and threatening in that scene... haha well we'll see how it goes. :P Wait for Hiccup's perception of him to change... (and now I have "Something There" from _Beauty and The Beast _in my head ._.).

* * *

Shadows scattered as the dim firelight leapt and fell against the wooden walls. The man loomed over all in the room like a great bear, reared upon its hind legs. Atop his plated armor, he wore a coat stripped from a boar's hide. An axe hung from his beefy hand as he turned away from the flames, and darkness cloaked half of his thick, bearded face.

Stoick the Vast, chief of the sturdy Viking village, Berk, looked down on the boy whose veins carried generations upon generations of warrior's blood, the boy whose name derived from Stoick's own mighty ancestors, the boy begot of the fairest and bravest woman in Berk. Stoick looked down on the small, quirky youth, whose only likeness to his father was the reddish shade of his hair. He looked on his son, but saw only a stranger.

"I don't want to fight dragons," Hiccup objected weakly.

The man scoffed. All Hiccup had ever begged from the village chief was to let him fight and prove himself to the Vikings. Stoick had kept the last of his bloodline away from the dragon battles, not only to protect the boy, but also to keep a closed door between mischief and the clumsiest child in Berk.

But if Hiccup was to become more than a child, Stoick could no longer shield him. The man dismissed his son's protest and bestowed his axe into Hiccup's bony arms. The boy staggered, back bowing as he struggled to uphold his father's weapon.

"Are you not hearing me?" he beseeched. The fire seemed to cackle at him.

His father straightened the axe in Hiccups arms, forcing it into the palm of his right hand. (He had forgotten the boy was left-handed.)

"When you carry this axe," the man said in deep, husky tones, "you carry all of us."

Hiccup swallowed.

"That means you walk like us," Stoick continued, clasping the boy's thin shoulders between his meaty hands, "you talk like us," he pulled upwards sharply, trying to correct this son's posture, and the boy made a small, surprised sound against his father's brusque touch, "and you think like us_._" The man stepped into Hiccup's light. His shadow engulfed the boy. "No more of all..." he considered the youth, his bony limbs, the boyish face, the way he held himself –bent inwards like a servant—and the wide, round eyes that betrayed each facet of his mild, curious, analytical nature that shamed a Viking. "..._this_."

The boy rolled his eyes. "You just gestured to _all _of me," he pointed out.

Stoick ignored him again. "Deal?"

"This conversation is feeling _very_ one-sided..."

"Deal?" the man repeated, brows furrowing ominously. He had no patience for or understanding of his son's strange, quiet complaints.

Hiccup held his tongue and took in a slow breath. He released it, and his posture deflated even further.

"Deal," he agreed quietly, and the light flickered.

...

The following morning, Hiccup's first day of training to fight dragons could not have gone worse. Gobber the Belch, a surly blacksmith and at best a questionable instructor, unleashed an utterly livid Gronkle dragon upon this year's batch of young fighters. It chased them in circles and spat fire against their shields. Hiccup stumbled, and the beast instantly rounded on the boy. As the day before, once more he looked up into the face of death – but this time, death was not so forgiving. The portly dragon parted its mighty jaws to release a final burst of flame and turn the boy's face into a heap of charred flesh. A mere moment before it fired, Gobber yanked the beast away from its prey, and the flames shot just above the boy's ducked head.

Some of the students looked disappointed that Hiccup survived. The blacksmith, burly lunatic that he was, scolded and teased the boy even more than his father, but his eyes always softened when he spoke to the funny little Viking. His look in the arena was rebuking, but beneath that flickered a sentiment rare to Vikings – simple, honest worry. Then, the remaining classmates seemed to care little whether Hiccup lived or burned.

After the lesson, the boy yielded to his ever-growing curiosity and returned to the place where the Night Fury had once lain. He picked at the remains of the slashed bola sling, balancing one of the stones at the end of a rope in his palm. He could still see the Gronkle's huge, gnashing teeth, and Gobber's words still sounded in his ears: a dragon will _always_ go for the kill.

"So why didn't _you_?" he mused aloud, thoughts turning then to the intense, yellow eyes that now haunted his sleep.

Hiccup stood, letting the rock slip from his grasp, and peered inquisitively in the direction the strange being had flown towards yesterday. The youth's lips pinched with resolve, and Hiccup wandered cautiously after the Night Fury's trail. The path of trees bearing bent and dangling branches led him to a small niche in a precipice, near one of the borders of the island (he could smell the salt of seawater). Beyond the rim of the rock face, a lake glistened at him from the center of a lush valley, surrounded by high, white cliffs. All was still.

"...Well this was stupid," he grumbled to himself.

As he started to turn back, a patch of black caught his eye. Stooping, Hiccup picked up a small black scale, barely even the size of his thumbnails. He discovered a trail of them, leading down the edge of the hill from which he looked down.

Then something shot out above him.

Hiccup fell back, startled. The rocks shook, and there it was – the black demon, thrashing against the cliff with spread wings and clinging claws. It did not seem to notice the boy in the stone nook, all its energy directed at besting the mountainside. But the beast slid back down the steep rock and into the valley before it could secure a footing.

The boy scampered to his feet and stepped out from his ledge, eagerly climbing down some ways to get a better look at the creature. The Night Fury repeatedly took off from the ground and crashed back into it, hissing furiously every time. Hiccup hastily retrieved a notebook and charcoal from his vest, and started to sketch the demon's outline. The entire body was scaled and black like its face, and garbed only with what looked like a dark loincloth*. Its shape was so like a human's, like that of a strong youth's – not so thick and broad as the village warriors, but swelling with lean muscle along each exposed limb and the bare torso. The outspread wings were each about the span of the body, and a long, thick tail flicked behind them.

It stood with a strange, slightly coiled posture, sometimes low enough to rest a palm on the ground as it moved nimbly about the valley. The Night Fury touched its middle, and its eyes held an ache in them as they peered keenly into the lake, at the fat fish within. It hissed suddenly and lurched forward, reaching into the water for the finned food. But the fish escaped, and the creature seemed to sigh, not daring to venture any farther into the lake after the fish. Dragons were beings of fire, not water.

Hiccup surveyed his sketch with a small frown. "Why don't you just... fly away?" he wondered. Then, as the Night Fury spat a small, frustrated burst of flame, he noticed the asymmetrical shape of the creature's tail, and the caked fluid on the other side of the single fin. A second tail fin was missing.

It was hurt.

The boy watched the creature lament its wound with an uncomfortable grimace. His grip on the charcoal pencil loosened, and it fell from his grasp and rolled towards the edge of the cliff. Hiccup blinked out of his thoughts and jerked forward to catch pencil, but it was too late. It dropped conspicuously into the clearing, and the Night Fury looked up.

Hiccup froze. The Night Fury stared, still except for a small swish of its tail. Its pupils narrowed, inspecting the human with an inscrutable expression. The boy gulped. But the creature merely cocked its head and twitched its ears once before losing interest in Hiccup, returning to its vain efforts to feed and to fly. Hiccup blinked and slowly backed away from the edge, never taking his eyes off the creature until he was far enough back to lose sight of it. Then he turned and scurried back to the village as quickly as his legs would take him, leaving this time unhindered by fear, and ignited with anticipation.

* * *

**A/n: ***Yes, a goddamn loincloth. I know. I just can't get behind the whole reptilian it-comes-out-when-aroused thing. o_O If it don't work close enough to a human's stuff, it's a little too weird for me lol. Otherwise, he could just have it _out there_, uncovered, but that'd be a whole new level of awkward, wouldn't it... :S I dunno, I was thinking of having Hiccup _give _him a loincloth and/or some pants or something so he didn't die of embarrassment at every encounter haha. But then he'd have to sit through getting flashed until Toothless trusted him enough to accept the clothes sooooooo... just... this was the simplest solution okay! Shush. :B

Also, I love Hiccup and Stoick's relationship in the movie. It's really believable and touching, while also excruciating and somewhat destructive until things get resolved between them. This story kind of emphasizes the more destructive elements for a somewhat bleaker picture. But as with every aspect of this fic, the original portrayal is totally my fave, I'm just having some fun exploring a different angle. :P


	3. Forbidden Friendship

**A/n: **Man this chapter was rough to scramble together... longer than the previous two, and a really difficult few scenes to replicate because they're so damn amazing in the original and I just sit here like uh, what am I doing, this was great as it was why am I screwing with it... but that is not the question to ask when writing fanfiction lol.

_CGJ _: Thanks again for the correction on Stoick's name! Definitely point out my mistakes, guys, 'cause I'm kind of a moron. :B

_Hana13_ : Will Toothless' anthropomorphic form be explained? Uhhhhh, good question... I had a few possible routes written up and I'm still deciding on exactly which to take. It's basically a choice between involving Norse mythology, running with a partially D&D-inspired concept, or making up a dragon origins myth (i.e. a wizard did it). It will be addressed eventually, but not for a few chapters at least, and even then, not sure how in-depth it will go. Maybe will post the possibilities on a forum or something and see what the consensus is for which offers the most interesting story/satisfactory explanation...

Based on the concept I'm leaning towards most, I'm almost wishing I didn't have the entire body scaled... was thinking of making it pitch-black skin, but then how would he survive, well, _anything _without scales all over? :o

Oh and I'm just gonna warn you guys now, I should have probably clarified this before... the slash is going to be very, very slow-going. Mostly just fluff and bonding. There will be a little something in there, but not right away, and not much. The real action won't come until the end or the sequel (yes, instead of studying for the personal fitness trainer exam, I'm thinking up sequels to in-progress fanfics... I'll never get my license T_T). Let's just say, this is rated "T" and it's going to stay that way, but if the sequel ever gets off the ground, that will be a big fat "M." ;P So I'm sorry, but not too much candy here. :( Not just yet...

* * *

The Viking girl's cold eyes glinted fiercely. She was the most ruthless young fighter the village had ever known, terrifying and beautiful, like a blaze of Thor's lightning in the night. The girl wielded her axe perilously before her victim, her thick braid of yellow hair whipping behind her with the wind.

Hiccup was hopelessly smitten with the warrior maiden. Her surprising physical might, her unshakable resolve to overcome any challenge, and the agile swing of her weapons left the boy in absolute awe. She was everything he could have hoped to be as the chief's son – everything he was not. And so enthralled was he with his opposite, his green eyes never held envy when they met her ice blue glare.

Astrid shoved her axe near Hiccup's throat. He couldn't help flinching as she towered over her fallen classmate, over the coward who ran and ducked his head in the face of his enemies – over he who was so clumsy as to hinder the path between her and victory, he who had awkwardly collided with the fair warrior in the midst of battle.

"Our parents' war is about to become _ours_," she snarled at him. "Figure out which side you're on."

As she stomped away, the boy looked down at the shattered pieces of wood and metal that once made his shield, and sighed. He picked himself up and reached for one of the spare shields along the arena walls. The lesson was over, the students scattered, and Hiccup snuck away with the shield before Gobber could shake his head and lecture him again about focus on the battlefield.

Hiccup had always been known to lose himself in his thoughts, heeding nothing outside of the mind's eye – until his foot caught on a rut in the road and he flew forward, until tools clattered against the floor when they fell from his grasp (just missing his toes!), or until huge hands took hold of his shoulders and shook him to awareness. But the heat of battle was no time for such childishness. When the boy's mind recalled the blackest scales around noxious yellow eyes, and pondered whether the lines of the lean face were rough to the touch or smooth, he only saw the flame from the Deadly Nadder dragon coming at him with barely the time to scamper out of the path of fire.

Now the nightmarish battle dome was finally behind him, and his legs could catch up to where his thoughts still lingered.

...

The boy slipped clumsily into the crevice between two small cliffs, his shield clunking beside him against rock and grass. He hefted the weapon before him, nearly half of his slim form disappearing behind it, and took a timid step towards the clearing where the Night Fury dwelled.

Grimacing, Hiccup retrieved his slippery, uncooked lunch from a buckskin pouch. Without setting foot into the vale, he lifted the fresh cod above his head, and with a quick, somewhat spastic motion, tossed it into the open. He waited.

...Nothing.

Cautiously, the boy crept forward. His shield screeched against the edges of the crevice and caught between the stones, refusing to budge any further despite Hiccup's frustrated tugging. Finally he released the shield, rolling his eyes at the all-too typical blunder, and ducked underneath it.

Hiccup nervously skimmed the valley for the Night Fury, scooping up the untouched fish. He felt a little bare without his weapon, but thus far the demon had let every opportunity to attack him pass. The boy placed all his trust in this pattern, and held his ground with the raw food uplifted.

A black tail swished out from behind a tall rock, and an unseen pair of inhuman eyes watched the boy wander into the clearing. Then the Night Fury emerged from its granite shroud, beginning to clamber down towards the boy. The creature landed deftly a few feet from him, eagerly eyeing the fish, and Hiccup turned.

The boy gasped and took a startled step back. The draconic man tilted its scaly head and squinted at the human. Even the most miniscule movements were quick and fluid, like a wild animal's. Its yellow eyes returned to the fish, and the head tipped in another direction, ears perking slightly upwards.

Hiccup remembered himself, and slowly held out the silver meat to the creature. It approached cautiously, slightly angled away from him in a defensive stance. Suddenly the creature leapt back and hissed ferociously, pupils shrinking to slits as it crouched slightly and brandished its claws. The boy nearly dropped the fish, staggering back as well with wide eyes. He lifted his palms in a conciliatory gesture, but the beast still snarled at him. Frowning, the boy then followed the creature's gaze towards his own waist, where his small hunting knife hung from his belt.

The boy reached for his knife. The Night Fury hissed again, crouching lower still. Hiccup pulled the weapon out, held it away from him, and let it drop by his feet. The creature stopped hissing, but still eyed the weapon with narrowed pupils. Without a second thought, the boy nudged his foot under the knife and flung it into the lake beside them, and his last weapon sank to the murky bottom.

Instantly, the Night Fury's disposition brightened beyond any it had shown the boy before, letting all the frigidity fall from its stance and blinking at Hiccup with wide, curious eyes. For a moment, its simple gaze and upturned ears reminded Hiccup of a puppy, and with that thought he broke into a small, surprised smile as he offered the creature the fish again.

The Night Fury moved towards him less hesitantly this time, but caution still slowed its steps. With a sudden burst of movement, it shot out a clawed hand and snatched the food from Hiccup's fingers. The boy jumped a little and watched as the demon scrutinized its meal. It lifted the fish near the flattish nose, dark lips parting as it inhaled the scent of fresh meat. Hiccup's brows furrowed and he leaned forward a little, noting with surprise that the Night Fury suddenly lacked its set of jagged teeth.

"Toothless?" he observed, puzzled. "I could have sworn you had—"

Suddenly they were there, every razor-sharp tooth emerging abruptly as the creature's jaw unhinged, and with a snap and a gulp, the fish was swallowed in two halves. Hiccup drew back slightly and blinked.

"—teeth," he finished meekly.

The Night Fury ran a slightly forked tongue over the upper row of white fangs, giving it a satisfied flick before its jaws closed again. Then its pupils widened, and its hungry eyes fell on Hiccup expectantly. A strange sound rumbled from its throat, not unlike a low growl, or perhaps a heavy purr. With no hesitation whatsoever left in its step, the demon swiftly closed in on the surprised boy.

The creature stepped close enough to touch Hiccup's face – far past what he deemed to be a safe proximity. The boy's mouth dropped open, but no comprehensible words formed from it as he tried to withdraw from the advancing Night Fury.

"Ah, _no_—no, no..." he managed to stammer, scrambling backwards as quickly as he could to stay out of the demon's reach. At its full height, it was at least half a head taller than Hiccup. The boy tripped and fell back on his hands and seat, but the creature still did not stop, simply crouching to his level. He scuttled back with hands and feet until his back bumped one of the white boulders scattered through the vale.

Hiccup was cornered by a hungry demon and out of food. That couldn't be good...

The Night Fury planted its palms on either side of the boy, leaning forward to study the human's face without regard for his nearness. Hiccup pressed as far back against the rock as his thin body could, painfully recalling his first encounter with the beast. It blinked at him, cocking the dark head inquiringly.

"I don't have anymore," the boy explained anxiously.

The creature blinked again, eyes narrowing slightly as it tried to decipher him. Then the eyes rolled back in its head, and it made a small choking noise. It leaned down, and Hiccup felt something splatter onto his lap. The Night Fury straightened, and sat back with legs crossed, giving Hiccup a little more space. In Hiccup's lap was a regurgitated half of the silver cod.

The boy's nose wrinkled.

"Ugh," he mumbled.

They sat in silence for a few moments, blinking at each other, waiting to see what the other would do. The Night Fury looked down at the fish and back to Hiccup. The boy frowned. When the demon repeated the action, suddenly the human understood. His brows shot up, quickly collapsing again and crinkling as he grimaced at what the creature expected him to do.

Girding himself for one of the weirdest (or stupidest) things he had ever set out to accomplish, the boy closed his eyes and lifted the raw meat to his lips. He bit. He chewed. He even managed to hum approvingly for the Night Fury's benefit. And somehow, somehow he found the strength to swallow.

Hiccup let the fish drop to his side as his face scrunched with discomfort. He shuddered and smacked his lips to get the foul taste out. The Night Fury smacked its own lips in response. Hiccup looked up at the demon's bright eyes and uplifted ears, and realized it was pleased. Despite himself, the boy cracked a slightly lopsided, worn grin at the well-intending creature.

For the first time, the Night Fury's lips curved as well. The smile was small, genuine, almost a smirk – nothing like the way it barred its teeth at him before. Hiccup's eyebrows lifted at the latest surprise from the human-like dragon, and the fatigue faded from his grin.

A little emboldened now, Hiccup bit his lower lip and reached out towards his new acquaintance. He held his palm open and tilted to the side in a typical greeting gesture of his village. But the Night Fury did not take his hand. It peered suspiciously at the boy's outstretched arm and abruptly hissed when he came close to its scales, jumping to its feet and gliding away. The boy pulled his hand back, watching after the offended demon with a contemplative pinch in his lips and brows.

On the other side of the clearing, the Night Fury burned a patch of grass and stamped out the flame, encircling the bed of ash like a simple domestic beast before settling down upon it. Its ears picked up as birdsong rang from the treetops, and when the draconic creature looked for the singer, a tiny finch soared overhead and into the sun's glare. The flightless being stared, dark brows sloping inwards with disquiet, huge eyes shining with the reflected image of feathery wings in flight.

The boy plopped down beside the woeful demon. It blinked and turned to the boy, cross-legged and smiling shyly, waving a little when it looked at him. The demon raised a brow at the nosy human, ears falling back and eyes narrowing skeptically. It curled away from him, folding the enormous wings over the body, tail wrapping around near its face.

Hiccup peered at the damaged tail curiously, and scooted a little closer to get a better look. The wound seemed to be closing – it didn't look as though the missing fin would grow back. The boy grew impulsive and reached out to the fin, trying to see whether the texture was as leathery as it appeared. But the tail lifted to reveal an irritated pair of black pupils narrowing at him. He immediately pulled back, endeavoring not to offend the demon again, and finally left it in peace. The demon huffed and relocated even further away, this time hooking the thick tail round a tough tree bough and hanging from it like a bat.

In the time it slept, the sun journeyed all the way to the edge of the horizon, and the clouds glowed orange and pinkish hues. Hiccup remained in the vale, wandering and wondering and poking at the sand by the lake with a stick. He sat upon a short rock and started to etch the demon's face into the earth, guiding the makeshift tool with a practiced hand in simple, sweeping motions. Something dark and vast loomed in the corner of his eye.

The Night Fury leaned over the boy's shoulder with wide, mystified eyes. Hiccup paused for second when he realized the demon was so near, but decided it best to continue without bothering it for now. The demon followed each curve and line scratched into the upturned grains with its head, tilting and nodding it in unison with the tool's path. Hiccup drew the tiny fins on either side of the Nigh Fury's neck, the slits of the nose, the unfathomable eyes, and the small cluster of black hair above the dark brows. The subject was fascinated with its image in the sand.

Suddenly, it leapt up and sped away from the boy. There was rustling, and a mighty crack cut through the tranquil clearing. Hiccup glanced up to see the Night Fury wielding a huge branch in its hands, dragging it against the sand with an excited flourish. It spun and ran around the bemused boy, making huge circles and squiggles in the earth. From where he sat, Hiccup couldn't tell what it was the creature might be drawing – if drawing it could be called. The creature then dropped the branch and grinned at the markings on the ground proudly, looking over to Hiccup for approval. The boy stood, and examined the artwork.

It looked like a giant three-year-old's scribbles.

Hiccup glanced at the Night Fury. It beamed back.

The boy just laughed softly and grinned at the ever-more endearing creature. He stepped towards it, but when his boot fell on one of the long lines in the ground, the being hissed angrily. Hiccup jumped and stepped off the line. The Night Fury calmed instantly. Ever the experimental youth, Hiccup hesitantly touched the line again. Again, the creature hissed. He pulled back, and the hissing ceased. Then the boy stepped _over_ the line, and the Night Fury brightened. Hiccup smiled, understanding the rules, and started to play the game.

The boy's gaze focused down at the markings in the sand, and he carefully stepped within the spaces of the pattern, swiftly making his way across the entire drawing. He turned and stepped backwards and sideways and around, never touching the lines. The youth spread his arms a little for balance as the turning dizzied him a little. When he reached the drawing's edge, he heard a slight stutter of sound behind him, and warm breath hit the back of his neck. A little startled, Hiccup turned, and the Night Fury stood there, closer even than before, gazing down at him with a surprisingly gentle look about its eyes. Hiccup gaped back, the human and the draconic man equally fascinated with each other.

Hesitantly, the youth tried again to offer his hand to the Night Fury. It leaned away from the offer, snorting slightly and narrowing its eyes in warning. Abruptly, Hiccup thought of the way the village tailor's hound snorted and howled at his cousin, Snotlout, because the obtuse boy always looked it directly in the eye when he approached it. Hounds took direct eye contact from a stranger as a challenge. The Night Fury sometimes behaved so like an animal, Hiccup wondered...

Taking a breath, the boy's eyes fell shut, and he turned his head away from the Night Fury, hand still extended. There was a pause, and Hiccup hoped he hadn't lost his senses. Then he tried not to jump as smooth, firm fingers pushed into his. Instead of clasping his hand, a scaled palm pressed against his own, pushing back the smaller human hand until the palms were flat against each other. The boy slowly glanced back at the Night Fury. It was staring at their hands with a curious expression. The demon claws were retracted, it seemed, and the dark fingers stretched out a little longer than Hiccup's pale, thin ones. With their hands side-by-side, the differences between the human and the mysterious creature seemed suddenly so few.

Their eyes met, and the dragon-man seemed to remember himself. He withdrew from the boy, and with no more than a quick half-smile, the gigantic wings spread and he coasted away again. The boy watched him and closed his fingers into his palm, still holding his hand out from him in a slight daze. He blinked out of it and looked to the darkening sky.

Hiccup would be late to dine again tonight, but even so, he smiled the entire way home.

* * *

**A/n: **Daww palms together just like in Pocahontas, but without boobs or awesome songs about diversity and war and stuff... hm maybe I should fix that...

Also, Astrid is a little nutty in this. By a little nutty I mean a little homicidal. ._. I mean the tough pretty girl thing in the movie works okay, wasn't sure why she had to be so damn stick-like when she was obviously really strong – well I _know_ why... girls can't be bigger than their male love interests, and Hiccup was tiny -.- stupid Hollywood. But I'm just saying, she should have some more obvious muscle if she's that tough. So in this, she'll be less spunky-skinny and more bat-shit-warrior-Klingon-princess. ...Something like that anyway. :B

Reviews extend my life by .9 seconds so do it do it do it! Even if you think it's shit, go ahead and tell me, dude, I eat adversity for breakfast. :V


	4. A New Tail

**A/n:** I know this is so late and full of exposition, sorry guys. Work is killing me. X( Also, just a warning, this is really starting to deviate more and more from the movie... so make of that what you will lol.

Kudos and love to you reviewers/followers/favoriters! You make it so worthwhile!

* * *

Gobber the Belch raised his handless arm above the circle of young faces in the dark. The fire pit splayed light from his jutted chin up to the edge of his helm, an angle that left looming shadows in the creases and folds of his burly face. Every pair of eyes in the circle gleamed with flames in the night – all but one down-turned set of myrtle green.

"And with one twist," the beefy Viking jerked his arm down, sharply turning the hook at his arm's end, "it took my hand and swallowed it whole."

Though they had heard how Gobber lost his left hand and right leg many times, the young Vikings listened again to his tale with all the awe and respect a great warrior merits. They stamped their feet and grit their teeth, bellowed in triumph or outrage, in all the right moments of the story. The skinny green-eyed boy sitting just outside the circle jumped at every uproar, peeking uneasily at the silhouetted horns and shadowed snarls, the way a field mouse might eye the plummeting hooves of seething bulls.

When Gobber finished telling how his foot too was snatched up by angry jaws, one of the young men among them stood and growled.

"I will avenge you!" he cried out, and the others cheered in agreement. "I'll cut off the legs of every dragon I fight!"

The blacksmith shook his head, waving the crooked hook in the broad boy's direction. "Ah, but it's the wings and the tales you want," he advised. He lifted the chicken roasting o'er the fire and snapped off a wing with a sticky crack. "If it cannot fly, it cannot get away."

Green eyes lifted and settled on Gobber's twisting grin.

"A downed dragon is a dead dragon," he said, taking the chicken wing between his teeth and ripping the flesh from the bone.

The myrtle eyes widened.

It was never hard to slip away from merry-making Vikings. They laughed and drank and roared, told tales and insulted one another. Under the shroud of a drunken ruckus, quiet footsteps were never heard, and the bob of an auburn head never seen.

There were many things Hiccup never understood. Every Viking but he knew the feel of a blade or a mace like another limb, welcomed the fists of an opponent like an embrace, reveled in the slaughter of foes with terrible delight. The ladies fought alongside the men in every battle, every bit as fierce and determined, and even the children laughed and cheered on the fighters from their windows.

Some cried. Some Vikings ran from fights and flinched from their own weapons. But they never lasted long. Only the hardiest survived. Even the young ones, even a child must sometimes defend itself from flames or claws or occasionally steel, and if they could not...

Were he not the son of the village chief, Hiccup would have lain among the fallen long ago. Hence the Vikings stared with such spite, hence they sneered and shook their heads at the boy. Fate should have weeded him out long ago. He didn't belong among their ranks of perfect might. The weak were not welcome here.

But Hiccup _was_ the chief's son, so most let him alone. Moreover, he was not entirely without use, for there was one thing the boy _did_ understand, one blessed piece of sense in the chaos of Viking life.

Gobber was an able blacksmith. He made tough, jagged weapons, and followed sturdy designs when he built and rebuilt the stables, the barns and the houses. He was a fast worker, turning out simple, reliable results. Gobber was everything a village blacksmith need be.

But when Hiccup melted steel, he reshaped the thick red mass into long, perfectly even, beautiful blades that glimmered in the sun. When he carved into wood with careful, precise strokes, then fine, intricate patterns emerged from what was once a simple slab, winding delicately along the handle of a hammer, or the leg of a table, or the back of a chair. And when Hiccup fashioned battle armor, he crafted smooth, thick plates of metal and leather shaped individually to each fighter's figure.

The Vikings were not so interested in the beauty of his work, but they found that his swords sliced through flesh as though it were warm butter, his armor withstood weapons and flame almost as well as a dragon's hide, and even the embellished furniture was thick and took their abusive pounding of fists, mugs, and sometimes feet, without breaking – which was something to be said for this village.

Hiccup's village might even have held the boy in reasonably high regards for this work, if he would have only kept at building useful, practical things. But for every sword, he made three versions of a funny little contraption that never quite worked as it ought. For every shield and every breastplate, pages upon crumpled pages of strange designs fell from his worktable, hours devoted to them in the place of work. And he didn't make weapons quickly and efficiently like Gobber, but let his mind linger on half-conceived designs in his churning mind. He knew every creation would dent, scratch, dull —but never snap— once it passed to another Viking's hands. So he focused more on the funny machines in his sketchbook that sought to answer the many questions in his head.

The boy was a rare, logical sort of Viking, and if something didn't make sense to him he never dismissed it the way he was expected to. It was how he surpassed the blacksmith in his own study. He wouldn't accept there was only one way to craft a sword, that it didn't matter how it was done so long as it could cut, that following the motions without understanding them was all one needed. Hiccup experimented, caused mishap upon horrible mishap, until he understood how to mold a perfect sword. He tweaked Gobber's instructions until the result met with the image in his mind. He practiced –uselessly, Gobber had said—late and long until he could finally summon the sweeping patterns he already saw in the wood.

Hiccup didn't fully understand that if it were in him to kill, he might have been the most terrifying foe one could make. He didn't quite recognize that he fumbled so miserably in battle due only in part to clumsiness. The other part he only recently discovered in himself – the unwillingness to do harm. It was that, more than his size, more than his klutzy conduct, and far more than cowardice, that kept him from ever mastering combat, that slowed his hand when he fashioned his weapons, that doused the very curiosity which had led him to unravel the secrets of forging metal and shaping wood.

The boy retreated from his dining peers to the workshop, and opened his small sketchbook under the candlelight. He turned the pages until the Night Fury's rough outline lay out before him, uncanny wings outstretched and tail whipping out behind. Hiccup surveyed the single tail fin, trying to recall its estimate dimensions, the thickness, the apparent weight. Then he picked up a charcoal pencil and drew in a second fin, making the tail whole again.

When Hiccup was met with an unknown, he pondered and tinkered for an answer. The boy moved with an ease he only knew when there were no eyes on him, brows set with a sureness that only came when he crafted in the shop. He drew three, four, four-and-a-half designs, adding, simplifying, approximating his calculations. Then he began the work, heating the metal, shaping it with careful strikes of a small hammer, tailoring the leather, sliding everything in place.

By the time the half-moon began to dip from its zenith, Hiccup had completed the first prototype of the Night Fury's new tail.

...

The boy lifted the lid, and the demon practically dove into the basket of fish. Hiccup had to smile at the childlike excitement in his dark face as the draconic being rifled through the food. But the Night Fury halted suddenly, eyes narrowing, and backed away from the basket with a low growl.

Frowning, Hiccup looked inside to see what the matter could be. A long, yellow and black tail caught his eye, twisted among the stacks of silver. He reached for the striped eel, dangling it above the basket with a small cringe. The Night Fury hissed, backing away even further, eyes huge and sinister.

Instantly, the boy tossed the eel aside, beckoning the creature to calm down as he wiped the horrible feel of the sea animal from his fingers.

"It's okay! I don't really like eel much, either," he admitted.

The fangs retracted, and the seemingly toothless man – dragon, demon, what was it really?— blinked at Hiccup harmlessly. He returned to the basket and began to devour the bounty within, snapping his head back with every gulp and gurgling slightly with delight. Thus preoccupied, the Night Fury didn't notice the boy creeping towards his tail.

Hiccup reached down very cautiously for the appendage. His fingers lightly brushed against it, and it stuttered somewhat under his touch. Gradually, he pressed his fingertips down until his entire hand lay atop the glossy scales. Hiccup looked up. The Night Fury carried on with its meal, paying him no mind. Still tentative, the boy carefully took hold of the tail and slid the buckles of his prototype around it.

The creature finally lifted his head, a puzzled frown knotting at his brow. He glanced back at the kneeling human fiddling with his tail, and twitched it away from the boy. Hiccup let out a small huff as his work slipped before he could properly attach it, and reached again for the tail. He pressed the prototype back up against it, without complaint from the creature, but the moment he began to work the buckles again, suddenly the appendage whipped out from his grasp. Hiccup glanced at the Night Fury warily, but the creature only stared back with amused, half-lidded eyes, and a small smirk at the end of the thin, dark lips.

Indignation swiftly overtook the caution in the boy's eyes as he rolled them back impatiently, and he snatched at the tail yet again. This time, Hiccup tried to pin the scaled mass against the ground to keep it from escaping, but the squirming appendage under his hands only dragged him along with it. The Night Fury snorted at the flailing human, who glared back as though a strange monster laughing at his expense were no more than a nuisance. Hiccup scooted closer and swung a leg over the disobedient appendage, mumbling, "Toothless moron," as he straddled it.

With only some difficulty, Hiccup finally managed to attach his project to the Night Fury's tail. He sighed happily and overlooked his attempt to replicate the missing tail fin with a critical eye. The dimensions were very close, though it would certainly need tweaking to match exactly. All in all, he was satisfied with the outcome of his late-night creation. He did not see the Night Fury's confused eyes widen suddenly with realization, didn't hear the ripple in his wings as they spread out against the wind, and could never have prepared for what the draconic being was about to do.

When the Night Fury bounded upwards, Hiccup toppled forward. His limbs instinctively clung to the appendage beneath him, amazingly tough enough to support his weight, as he and the winged-being left the ground far behind them.

The young Viking's eyes strained, hair whipping into his flushed face. He didn't have the air to scream at first. The valley flew by with a speed no amount of running could reach. They were weightless. The wind crashed against them with the force of a storm. There was no sensation more foreign, at once terrifying and exhilarating, so far beyond anything a land-born creature could ever imagine.

"No, no, no, no, no," Hiccup chanted with the fear of one whose death lurks just beneath him, voice barely rising past the howl of wind in his ears.

Then the Night Fury screeched, and they began to fall.

Hiccup squinted at the leather tail fin he'd made. It flapped back uselessly, closing in on itself with nothing to hold it open. The Night Fury twisted, and the ground approached too fast. So with a heaving breath, the boy tore out a hand and grabbed for the flailing prototype. Once the leather was secure in his shaking fingers, he pulled with all his might, until the fin stretched out flat against the wind.

The boy watched them rise over the earth again, safely treading death, and his gasping breaths broke into trembling laughter.

"It works," he panted, grinning almost hysterically. He tilted the fin, and it steered them over the lake. "Oh my- I did it... I did it!"

The Night Fury's ears twitched at the excited tones. He looked back at the boy's hand on his fin, and frowned curiously. With a temperamental flick, he knocked the Viking off him, sending him screaming into the lake. But the moment he was gone, the Night Fury lost control again, and fell with a colossal crash into the other side of the lake.

When the draconic man emerged from the water, he sputtered with disdain, leaping in and out clumsily until it reached land. The Viking trudged out after it, clutching his knees to catch his breath, shaking. But it wasn't with cold, or with shock. Hiccup laughed and laughed, beside himself with the awe and thrill of man's first flight.

He nearly forgot to train that afternoon, and hardly cared that he did. The Vikings lived in a world of naught but blood and steel. Hiccup was entering a far vaster world.

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**A/n**: Hope that wasn't too boring. :P

But yea can you imagine, growing up without any mode of transportation (not even horses by the looks of things), never breaking past the limits of human speed, and then suddenly experiencing pretty much the equivalent of a roller coaster?! Hiccup be trippin, man. ;)

Also he's an artiste! Lol.

Reviewers are the best~


	5. Hiccup's Quandary

**A/n**: You guys. Are the best. No, for reals. You don't even know...

Augh but this chapter is so... dialogue-less. What tiny bit is in there is more like monologue, and the rest is just ostentatious drivel.

Still, enjoy!

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It began with a question.

It came to Hiccup at the break of a grey dawn, as he labored quietly in the warehouse closest to the domed arena. It came just as he carefully began to pick out the eels from his thick wicker basket, letting them slide from between his slickened fingers back into the massive fish barrel.

The stores of food in the village were plentiful with so many warriors still at sea, the bulky warships chocked with ironclad men and women and an unthinking loyalty to the chieftain – even as he stabbed blindly, recklessly, at his winged enemies. In his quest to find and seize the dragons' nest, to draw the sword of Stoick's army through the heart of Berk's suffering, many ships had set forth, and many had never returned.

Only days back, Stoick's proud eyes had peered down from one of those ships, resolving to pursue the fire-breathing raiders himself, abandoning his village and his kin with a funny gleam in his sharp eyes – not fear, nor regret, nothing so fragile. It was only a simple truth, a candid uncertainty that he would ever again walk along the wide village pathways, hear the stomping and the mead-ridden laughter in the great assembly hall, feel wool still warm upon a lamb's back beneath his big hands, or see the tufts of auburn, the rounded myrtle, and the freckled pallor that composed his only son.

It was a gamble that every warrior faced with fearless honor, that every family met with tearless grace, even as their hearts stammered beneath their breasts.

Hiccup did not let his mind linger on the ships, knowing too well that even a thought can paralyze. Instead, he filled his head with too much else to leave room for even the mammoth Viking vessels. He filled it with a black, slithering tail fin and its leather twin, with yet undrawn sketches upon sketches of adjustments and re-measurements, with every crazy and inconceivable method of keeping the leather open, of controlling its tilt against the whirling wind, with the slide of a smooth, cool palm against his own...

The eels slapped against the other fish in the barrel with a sickening splat. Hiccup's lips twisted and his nostrils flared.

Unfortunately, his spinning head was also preoccupied with the unpleasant business of the Night Fury's diet.

It was strange, really, this inclination towards fish, when the creature so clearly disliked water. Or perhaps he distrusted what lay in the depths of the darkest blue, particularly when he was wounded. Perhaps at full strength he could catch his meals easily from the shallows, or snatch them up with only a quick dip beneath the water's surface in the midst of flight, like a seabird.

Hiccup smiled a little despite his chore. The Night Fury was so unlike the other beasts of the air. It was uncanny to think they were even kin, but the very basics of a dragon, the fire, wings, claws, scales – it could not be denied that he _was_ some variant of their kind. But this one was so very different, and not just physically. He was surely a creature of far greater intelligence, not so swayed by animal bloodthirst as his cousins. With a gentle persuasion of trust, he could be reconciled to sheath the teeth and claws that would threaten – no, _defend_ – and turn from enemy to friend. The Night Fury was not unlike _men_. Complicated, sophisticated, and capable of reason and compassion. He was really nothing like the other snarling, hissing, horrific—

Then he froze. It had struck him, the question that marked the beginning of something more dangerous than any threat to flesh or bone, an idea his insatiable curiosity was inexorably bound to hit, a path no Viking had ever allowed himself to wander in all the three centuries of war waged between man and dragon.

The memory of that first day in the woods shot through him, like one of Thor's electric bolts. The Night Fury's contorted face snarled into his own, claws at his neck, the power of several men in a single hand pining him down. It melded with the image of every dragon Hiccup had ever seen, demolishing houses with a single belching burst of flame, slamming into warriors who never rose again, spilling red from limp necks onto wool and fur, furious eyes on men's weapons as they ripped entire limbs apart to disarm them.

And then he recalled the Night Fury's second impression, unguarded, simple curiosity glinting in his wide, soothing eyes. He smiled and even seemed to laugh. He played games. He touched hands.

Hiccup had assumed the Night Fury was an exception. Vikings knew so little of that particular breed, and his appearance alone set him greatly apart. But what they did know of the common breeds, scribed carefully within the leather bindings of the _Book of Dragons_, was only their strengths, weaknesses, methods of attack, how they could be killed – the observations of a warrior.

Now, the faces of men and women in battle loomed in Hiccup's mind, the way their faces twisted, how they clenched their teeth, the wracking war cries rising above the fervid masses, the madness in his own father's eyes when he swung his axe at his enemies. But then, when war was won, when the vicious cheers faded, the faces would lax. Brothers embraced, the warriors took hold of their children and mourned the fallen, and in the moments when it seemed no one could see, even Stoick the Vast would stop, grip the end of the long table, and breathe – as though he had to remind himself how.

Everyone wore a different face in battle. When the fighting stopped, when nothing threatened life or honor, they let the shroud fall. Even the Night Fury had revealed his gentler face, hidden at first in a bestial lash of anger and fear. So was it possible... did the other dragons also have this dimension to them? Were they not the single-minded monsters war had led humans to believe? Had anyone even tried to find out, thought even for a moment that there could be depth or reason within this enemy?

Were dragon and man so different?

And there it was, the most dangerous question a Viking could ask.

It is the food of the philosopher, the revelation of the soul-searcher, to suppose he and his enemy are one. It is the destroyer of conviction, the undoing of tradition. It can collapse entire civilizations. It can rebuild them from the societal rubble.

But for the soldier, for the man at war, in a world too enclosed upon itself to see beyond its own horizon – it is sorrow, and almost certainly death.

Hiccup, for all that he had lived seventeen years under a cruel and archaic code of honor, was really still a child, that simple hope and zeal yet uncrushed beneath the bloody fists of war and tradition. So when his thoughts first stumbled upon the inevitable path his gentle nature would take him, he felt only interest and excitement. It was another unknown terrain to map out, and ever an eager explorer was he.

But where to begin?

The last eel dangled from his fingers, forgotten as his thoughts whirred through him. He glanced at the sea creature, no longer than his arm, lifeless eyes bulging and jaws of crooked fangs lolling open, uselessly. The boy's eyes grew wide with inspiration, and he tucked the eel into his vest.

...

The Zippleback dragon halted several inches from Hiccup's face. Each round, serpent-like head sniffed, and the four eyes widened.

Suddenly the two-headed dragon scrambled backwards, and the winding necks lurched away from the fallen boy with a mad sort of desperation. The dragon shrieked and howled, eyes lolling with uncontrollable emotion.

Hiccup was agog. He rose to his feet, and the dragon wailed louder still. The boy only peered at the gigantic creature in wonder, its steely green hide and hideous teeth, the claws digging frantically into the stone of the arena. Such a vast, indestructible creature, so utterly crippled by the fear of something so small, draped harmlessly over Hiccup's shoulder under his vest. The dragon writhed, and squawked, and _shook_, horror glazing over the two sets of eyes.

How could anyone mistake a dragon for an unfeeling beast?

The boy's face quickly slipped from intrigue to guilt. It was a cruel start to his study of dragons, terrifying the Zippleback with a careless trick. The Night Fury didn't make half so great a fuss, but he had already begun to build that creature's trust, hadn't so thoughtlessly introduced himself with a test rooted in fear. He did at least glean a crucial lesson, one so easy to overlook or forget.

He would never again underestimate a dragon's capacity for anguish.

Hiccup herded the beast back into its cage, aiming to end the conflict as quickly as he could. With some effort, he hauled the barred door shut behind it, fingers lingering along the metal stripes as he looked in at the quivering creature.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and turned.

His classmates stared.

No one spoke. The silence broke only when a student's weapon fell from his lax grasp, metal glancing off stone in a thin, drawn-out clatter. Gobber's thick lips parted beneath his yellow whiskers, then closed. Astrid's blue eyes were wide and avid. No one dared look away. They dared not move.

The young Vikings had watched the boy make a dragon quake with no more than a look, unarmed, chasing it back into its cage without the slightest trepidation in his step. Their eyes were now fixed on him in a way no Viking had ever regarded the slight boy before, a way that pricked at his spine until he shivered.

...

The sun was high by the time Hiccup slipped away from training, gathering his de-eeled fish basket for the Night Fury. He slid down the now familiar slopes of the lake valley, seeking out the dark creature's bright eyes. But the Night Fury was nowhere to be found.

"Hello?" he tried. Yesterday, the creature had approached immediately, eager for fish. Now, the valley stirred only with the gentle ripple of the lake and slight flutter of feathers among the trees.

Hiccup let his basket fall from his shoulder as he wandered, calling out with the beginnings of anxiety edging into his voice. Had the Night Fury recovered enough to climb from his granite prison? Could Hiccup find him again if he had? Would the Night Fury _want_ to be found, to let him try at least to right the wrong he'd done?

The boy's lips pinched fretfully, and with a small sigh, he turned.

And a dark blur leapt at him.

Hiccup yelped, completely off-guard, jumping up and stumbling back all at once so that he misplaced his balance, and fell squarely on his backside.

The Night Fury skidded slightly to a halt barely a foot from the boy, a devilish quirk in his lips and wicked mirth gleaming in his eyes. Hiccup caught his breath again quickly and scowled up at the impish creature, but the gesture held about as much threat for the Night Fury as a flustered kitten's hiss. The creature laughed, a low and breathy sound, lowering to Hiccup's level and taking a seat, as though invited.

The boy glared still.

"You _enjoy_ tormenting me," he muttered, "don't you?"

The Night Fury only replied with a soft growl past parted lips, intoned like an affirmation.

"Well, you're a thick git and- and you look like a toothless old bungler, so... there!"

Hiccup vaguely wondered why he had supposed insults, even if they hadn't fallen so clumsily, would have any impact whatsoever on the draconic being. And they didn't. The toothless-seeming Night Fury only lifted an amused brow at what must have been no more than excited sputtering to him.

"Oh for..." Hiccup sighed, choosing to cut to the chase, "Come on, then, let's see the tail."

The entire afternoon was spent with rope and hooks and the few tools he'd thought to bring, and many, many instances of Hiccup's inadvertent revenge on the creature's insolence. After yet another failure to keep the leather fin open, and the Night Fury's inevitable collision with the ground that followed, the boy winced and called out his millionth apology, rushing to the disgruntled being's side.

He tried again to show the Night Fury how to hold the rope attached to the tailfin, how to adjust his grip to bank left or dive down. It was all guesswork still, judged from a distance, testing and trying through the creature's attempts. But the Night Fury stared at the rope in his palm in utter perplexity. To a dragon, flying was second in nature only to breathing, not an equation, not a quantifiable science. He seemed to grasp what Hiccup wanted him to do, but the mechanical dissection of flight was so foreign that he was incapable of the quick recalculations and improvisation required to make any headway. Hiccup could only observe secondhand what didn't work and suggest something else, painstakingly gesturing and guiding the creature's hand with his own to explain.

But when he looked into the Night Fury's puzzled eyes, he saw that it was fruitless.

"Oh come on," he groaned, releasing the scaly arm. "You have to get this, I can't do it for y-"

Hiccup stopped. He blinked.

"...Okay, this may be madness," he admitted offhandedly. "But... it might work..."

And the boy ran off to collect the notebook and charcoal pencil among his small pile of tools, to begin designing something new and utterly insane.

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**A/n**: ...Madness?

This. Is. SPARTAAAAAAAAAAA!

No it's not, but I can't write "madness" and not think of _300 _lol. Mmm shirtless Fassbender... wait where was I?

Oh okay, so yea I'm afraid this may have been a bit convoluted, but I remember when I first saw the movie I honestly assumed the Night Fury was just the odd dragon out at first. It surprised me when it turned out _all_ the dragons had been misjudged. Though Toothless clearly was smarter, and perhaps the most formidable, the whole point was that all dragons were tamable, and I'm not sure even Hiccup recognized this right away. However, in this story, the taming of the dragons will not be a simple thing...

And as for the eel thing, I will say it always bothered me a bit that Hiccup tossed the eel in the cage. Backing the Zippleback up and scaring it a little I get, but locking the eel in there with it seemed a little much. :/ So I ended up just taking that sentiment to the extreme.

Reviewers, I bow to thee.

**UPDATE**: YOU GUYS I'M SO SORRY THE NEXT CHAPT IS TAKING SO LONG! But I posted a little preview on my Tumblr - I'm spaceycrazylady and it's post/37596109589. Just a taste a incoming fluff! Again I'm sorry and the next chapter is coming!


	6. Trial and Error (Mostly Error)

**A/n**: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GAHHH!

My life kind of got Hijack'd (dohahaha ok I'm sorry). Yea, FYI, every time I discover a new ship, this story gets delayed a bit so I can just have a few dozen feels attacks (the last time this happened was due to Mcfassy, now Hijack/Frostcup, who knows what's next... D:).

Review responses are at the end, unless you guys would prefer them up here, whatever looks better/is more convenient for you people because I LOVE YOU SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME I'LL DO ANYTHING- whew, okay, no I'm good, just a creepy loveattack...

I'm going to start posting updates and previews on Tumblr too, so anybody interested in that, I'm **spaceycrazylady**, but the story should be tagged so you should be able to just search the title if ya want...

And um, okay, I have to warn you, the beginning of this chapter... I'm going to have to just ask that you wonderful folks just bear with me on this. When I first came up with how they would fly, I thought it would work, but once I started actually writing it... I realized how ridiculously stupid it was. -_- It doesn't really make sense, it looks stupid, I can't even defend it at all, but without it the story would deviate from the original too much for comfort...

So I only hope the incoming fluff will kind of cancel out some of the sheer nonsense, and I'll do my best to make what sense of it I can... what was I _thinking_...

ENJOY DEAREST READERS

* * *

"Hold—still!" Hiccup huffed, clenching the ends of the metal clasp between his fists until his knuckles whitened.

But the bemused Night Fury refused to oblige, fidgeting all the more against the foreign material wound and fastened over his shoulders. Hiccup joined the shoulder straps with a third strip of leather, stretched nearly taut across the demon's chest, the boy's resolute fingers working the hook into the eye of the final fasten.

The scales of his underbelly against Hiccup's slipping fingertips felt a little different from those upon the Night Fury's hands. They were finer, like a carefully sanded sheep's hide, wrapped thickly over the fickle heat of reptilian blood.

"There!" Hiccup exclaimed as the metal finally clipped into place, despite the creature's inability to stay still. He tugged at the straps along each shoulder and the middle belt, ensuring that the clasps held, and grinned exuberantly when they did. His eager eyes turned up to meet the Night Fury's dubious but indulgent gaze, the human's hands still clutching the leather at the demon's chest.

"Okay," he breathed, giving his work one last pat before moving around to the Night Fury's back. A massive wing suddenly opened right in his way, but the boy was too focused to react with more than a roll of the eyes and a brief, unintelligible grumble as he pushed past it.

Along the creature's back sat a light slab of pelt, sloped slightly in the middle like a saddle, but not quite wide enough to cushion a rider's thighs. Stirrups dangled from the sides, swinging and twisting with the Night Fury's subtle movements. Hiccup bade his time, brushing his hand soothingly against the creature's shoulder, before he took hold of the pelt and slipped a thick wool boot into one of the wide stirrups. The boy hauled himself upwards, securing his footing in the second stirrup, then his unsure eyes darted around for a moment from a head or two above the Night Fury.

"Right, okay," Hiccup's nervous voice mumbled, gripping the rope attached to the creature's tail tighter in his palm. "We can do this, right?"

The Night Fury could certainly take his weight, but how much might it hinder his speed, or his balance? Hiccup didn't even know for sure if the winged man would accept the boy as his passenger! As for himself, could Hiccup really manipulate the tail fin any better than the Night Fury?

"Well, we'll find out..."

The boy leaned forward, near a perking black ear, and pressed his balled fist gently against the creature's shoulder. "Ready?" he asked, trusting that the Night Fury had grasped by now what was happening. His head tilted back towards the boy, and he sent him a small smirk and a brusque growl. The edges of Hiccup's own lips turned upwards a little.

"Let's go!"

At the human's signal, the half-beast took to the air, sending the human forward against his leather-clad back. They hovered above the small lake in the wind – for all of about a minute, before the creature veered sharply under the direction of Hiccup's rope, and the boy was flung right from his back. The lake's surface erupted with limbs and wings and limp hair.

Seconds after Hiccup plodded back to land, his notebook was in his hands, and he was scribbling in it furiously. Much, much more work lay ahead.

...

Metal shuddered against wood as the gate lurched open, screeching along the edges of the arched entrance like a mad woman's cackles. The small figure moved from the shadows into the gentle starlight, which glowed thinly through the gaps between the interwoven chains and iron beams cresting the battle dome.

No sentinels kept watch over the captive beasts when night fell. Vast, thickly barred doors secured their prison, and even should the doors somehow break free of their hinges, no dragon could penetrate the patterns of metal across the ceiling. Moreover, no Viking was so foolhardy as to toy with a dragon, even caged, alone and in the dark.

Hiccup gulped in the cool air and shakily puffed it out again, as though that heavy breath carried all he once feared, and if he could only release it into night, he would breathe in a new perspective.

The first cell Hiccup approached belonged to the warty Gronkle. Its thick feet padded restlessly against the stone floors as the boy glanced in at its huge, gleaming eyes. He could barely see the dragon but for the brief sparks of flame that came with every testy snort. The boy drew out a limp trout from his woven basket, and slowly held it up to the barred cell door.

Heavy footsteps halted, and he could hear the beast sniff deeply at the air. It appeared suddenly right before the door, nostril's huge and eyes squinting at the boy and his offering. Hiccup dropped the fish into the cage, and the dragon snatched it up from the ground and swallowed it in a single instant. He produced another fish, and this time slipped his forearm through the bars and kept hold of the meat, as the Gronkle stared. But it didn't hesitate long before snapping the fish by its tail between its gigantic jaws, and pulling it out of the boy's grasp without even grazing his fingers.

Hiccup fed the dragon until its eyes were no longer so narrowed, and its tense stance began to relax. He finally just held out his empty hand to the monster, holding it still and upturned as the dragon smelled his small palm curiously. The broad snout briefly bumped his fingertips. Hiccup held his breath, resisting the impulse to jerk back.

Then the Gronkle simply snorted and turned away, collapsing in a corner with a sleepy growl. The little Viking was not a threat, though not a friend, either. Not yet.

The boy stared a moment at the tubby dragon as it curled up like a small animal, and slowly withdrew his hand from behind the bars, shouldering his empty basket as a little smile grew upon his lips. It would take time, and more fish than he had ever cared to ferry around the island. But he was so sure now, if he could only show the dragons something other than fear and loathing, their legendary brutality would dissolve in the wake of something remarkably gentle.

...

When Hiccup wasn't training with Gobber and the other young Vikings, he was either in the workshop – bringing life to the drawings on his table with leather, metal and rope – or in the valley with the evermore-captivating Night Fury. Then, as darkness fell, he would sneak into the battle dome to coax the winged prisoners from the shadows to his outstretched hands.

As the Night Fury teased him, the grumbled retorts ceased to vary, and somehow "toothless," the usual preface to his insults, latched onto the creature like a thick paste, and became a name.

They had finally begun to pave their way to flight, each change to the apparatus bringing longer and steadier attempts to pervade the air. The last traces of mistrust fell away from the two of them, the way an autumn wind whisks away dead leaves from a blushing tree, and Hiccup soon found that his new friend followed a rather different code of affection from his own people's. He almost jerked back the first time the half-beast touched their foreheads together, moving against the boy's brow with gentle, rolling nudges. Hiccup could do nothing but breathe, if even that was possible with another face leaned in so close to his own. It didn't last long, and when the Night Fury pulled back his smile was casual, as though he thought it no more unusual than a clasp of hands or shoulders.

Once, they crashed into a meadow of long grass, billowing like waves in the wind. The two fell apart, and when Hiccup picked himself up and looked back at the draconic being, he just stopped and stared for a stunned moment. Toothless, the fearsome monstrosity of a man, was rolling and tumbling around in the grass with all the abandon of a kitten.

The boy's gaping mouth stretched to an inescapable grin as he approached the playful creature, shaking his head and looking down into his friend's blissful face. Toothless blinked contentedly back up at him, before a clawed hand suddenly shot out and snatched the boy's arm. Hiccup had about a second to protest before he was yanked down into the grass and sprawled under the Night Fury's powerful limbs.

Now, it wasn't that Vikings were standoffish sorts – quite the opposite! The Vikings of Berk grasped at the bases of one another's faces with giant smiles, and held each other close as they shook with bellowing laughter. But that was between kinsmen, brothers at arms, for children and wives and the people you've loved and honored as far back as you can recall.

It wasn't for the boy who lingered in the corners of rooms and the backs of crowds, who never spilt blood with fellow soldiers in battle, whose own father barely even looked at him.

So as the playful Night Fury's arms encircled the slender boy in the grass, Hiccup only gawped up at the yellow-eyed being in amazement. Toothless cocked his head at the still and silent human beneath him, and his lips widened past their usual mischievous smirk to as warm a smile as Hiccup had ever seen – more than any meant for _him_. He dipped in closer to the boy and briefly tapped his shallow nose against Hiccup's rounder one. The boy just blinked, cheeks tingling with red warmth a few short inches under the draconic man's dark face.

Then the reptilian eyes flared with that familiar, devilish spark. Hiccup let out a yelp and instinctively grabbed the Night Fury's shoulders as his friend started rolling their entwined bodies along the meadow, leaving a trail of flattened green blades behind them. The surprised sounds escaping the boy's lips slowly broke into breathless laughter, at moments bursting frantically from him as they tumbled about. Toothless' lower, inhuman tones rumbled with his own delight, mingling into Hiccup's. Their duet of hysterics rose above the heaving breaths of wind in their ears, and the rustle of grass below their scuffling forms. Somewhere in the ecstatic chaos, Hiccup's eyes found the Night Fury's, and the rolls slowed to a stop.

The boy's chest swelled and collapsed with each gasp of air, fast and thick from exertion. Though the edges of his lips trembled from how hard they pulled apart, he could not stop smiling, not for anything – no man, no beast, not even a god could quell his smile in that moment.

Hiccup had never been so lost in simple glee. He'd never known the touch of a playmate growing up, nothing but the shoving hands and jabbing elbows of his big cousin. It bewildered him to suppose that anyone would _want_ to take hold of him just to bring him closer – to brush so lightly against his skin, as though it mattered if it marred or broke – to lock bodies with him in a rolling embrace, when no one wrapped their arms around the empty space they saw in the place of a lonely boy.

Toothless gently bumped foreheads with the boy again, and this time Hiccup didn't stiffen under the animal-like nuzzle. He felt lighter, somehow – like an unseen hand had once pressed down on him, fooling him into believing that weight was just a part of him, only to suddenly let him go. His friend – his _first_ friend – wanted to play and touch and laugh with him, here where no eyes could find them, and Hiccup was finally allowed to just be a child.

...

With the Night Fury's help, Hiccup learned more about dragons than the Vikings had ever known. He tested every new discovery with the caged dragons, and then used that knowledge in the ring to end the practice fights as quickly and painlessly as possible. The grass from the meadow, it turned out, drew out contented lethargy from the other dragons as well as Toothless. They also loved ear scratches – or some preferred them in the dips where their chins met their necks. This he found out because Toothless was as shameless as a pup when he wanted to be scratched, the first time just leaning into an accidental touch with a big, sleepy smile and practically _purring _in Hiccup's general direction.

He did find it a bit odd at first, rubbing his fingers against the leather-like scales, or through the thick black locks behind a floppy ear, when the Night Fury looked so like a man. But the silly grin it brought to his ebon face won the boy over every time, so he scratched away at the fun-loving beast with a fond enthusiasm.

When Hiccup tried to show Toothless how to undo the fastens of the harness he wore, the Night Fury pulled at the metal ends until they snapped apart – in several pieces. The boy jumped and exclaimed awkwardly as the small steel scraps flung out in every which direction. Toothless glanced at him, eyes very wide. The boy blinked back, brow slowly quirking and lips tightening with reproach. The Night Fury paused, and meekly handed the broken material back to its maker. Hiccup just buried his head in his hands.

Toothless only mastered the remade fastens after Hiccup actually laid his fingers right over the Night Fury's, very slowly guiding them through every step until he grasped the method. But after the first mishap, the boy was rather keen to keep his materials _away_ from the curious creature's wandering grasp. His hammer at one point fell into great peril when Hiccup used it to reflect light, and create a moving dot on the ground for Toothless to chase as eagerly as a cat might pursue its own tail. The Night Fury was more perceptive than a cat, however, and when the connection struck that the little instrument in Hiccup's hands was the source of this play, the game devolved into a frantic scramble between the two of them to snatch the hammer out of the other's grasp. Hiccup gave the beast more competition than expected by innocently scratching the Night Fury's favorite spots, until his grip released and the boy had his hammer back. The ridiculous conflict ended with a decisive tackle bringing them both to the ground, just shaking with tired mirth, and the now slightly dented hammer falling away, forgotten.

It astounded Hiccup a little just how _powerful_ the Night Fury really was, even compared to the other breeds. He wasn't quite sure how it was actually possible, given his comparatively smallish shape. In another incident (of all too many), a sharp collision between the Night Fury and a tree, at least twice as thick as he and tall as any village house, actually _uprooted_ some of the massive evergreen. And Toothless just walked away from the wobbling trunk with only a slightly stumbling gait, and rather comically squinting eyes. It only then occurred to Hiccup just how careful his friend was with the human underneath him in the grass...

As the days passed, the makeshift tail began to evolve from a leather flap attached to a rope to a complex, pedal-operated mechanism. The kinks started to smooth away with Hiccup's efforts, but now he spent less time in the workshop than he would have liked, for the strangest of reasons. Ever since his apparent conquests in the battle ring, his peers began pulling him aside, following him around, saving spots for him when they congregated at meals or in lessons, and spoke to him with actual esteem in their voices and reverence in their eyes. With absolutely no experience to fall back on, Hiccup could think of nothing to do but slip awkwardly away from their attentions, or just bear it with as much appreciation and interest as he could muster.

In a way, it really was gratifying to be not only acknowledged, but also _valued_ by the other Vikings. But that didn't make him any less the unusual boy whose tastes and observations clashed with Viking ideals as much as any two warring weapons of steel. He still held little interest in his peers' rambunctious ways, and though they listened to him now if he spoke, very little comprehension entered their blinking eyes.

Only Astrid's deep blue eyes ever seemed to flicker with any kind of cunning. But of all the youths, she was still uninterested in befriending the boy – in fact, if anything she seemed more aggressive towards him lately. Only with disbelief did she watch him disarm dragon after dragon, faster than she could ever have hoped to. She, who trained harder and longer than any her age, she the girl who vowed to be the first true Viking queen and lead every tribe one day, as no man or woman had before. Astrid hated losing, but especially when it was to someone so gentle and slight as Hiccup – how could she ever lead if even that boy could best her?

But Hiccup remained oblivious to the spite in her stares. Somehow, she had grown less enchanting to his eyes, less of a vision upon which one might scramble for every possible glimpse. She was not just another of the Vikings, but she was also no longer the most striking individual he knew, and itched to be near everyday...

...

The little creature let out another of those strange, bright chuckles as he ran soft fingers against the half-breed's sensitive skin. That fledgling seemed to take such delight in coaxing lazy hums from the semi-divine being with those small, white hands. There was nothing so smooth and warm as the oddly scale-less flesh pressing on his draconic hide – it was a bewitching touch that diminished him to a puddle of simple, puerile pleasure.

The small human said something in his foreign tongue. Seldom did the youth cease to chatter incomprehensibly away at him, but by this time the demigod found the bizarre intonations so familiar, it was almost soothing. He recognized a few recurring sounds – "_no_" was becoming a popular one – and had some guess of their meanings, but the sound that the pale, lightly speckled creature uttered most, he still couldn't quite decipher.

"_Toothless_."

He articulated that word more carefully than any other, usually when the half-dragon teased or on occasion managed to demolish another of the funny youth's gadgets (_mostly _by accident). But this word, and the few others he remembered, he started to break apart with his slightly forked tongue, testing the long tones and the exotic pops between his unsheathed teeth. After a night of exploring the alien sounds, he could nearly replicate them without much stumbling. So when the little one said "toothless" with that oddly endearing smile, the demigod promptly said it back.

"_Tooofahlesh_."

...Though perhaps imperfectly shaped, the utterance caught the human's immediate attention.

He actually jumped back, leaf-green eyes blown as wide as they could go, and stared open-mouthed at the half-dragon. After a few blinks, he slowly spoke again, brows creasing and head tilted a little with scrutiny. Although the jumble of words meant nothing to the draconic being, they had a questioning lilt, so he said the one word he knew again.

The human gasped another unintelligible phrase, slowly raising his hands to his head as though it might roll right off if he didn't hold it in place. He laughed a little, eyes still huge and dazed, before he let his hands drop and sucked in his slim lips with a deliberating frown. Then his hands were in motion again as he mumbled away, unconscious, somewhat haphazard gestures following every inflection. He finally puffed out a determined breath, and said something very slowly, briefly pressing a hand to his chest.

At the demigod's blank frown, the fledgling repeated himself, then he just shook his head and shortened his phrase to a single, very curious word.

"_Hiccup_."

After the little one said it a few more times, the half-dragon took a stab at the peculiar sound, but the attempt fell a bit short.

"_Heegah_."

"_Hiccup_," the human repeated. "_Hi-ck-uh-puh_."

He enunciated the ludicrous word with drawn-out, crackling noises until he actually stopped and made a face at his own efforts. The half-breed chuckled, more at the way the youth's face screwed up than the odd noises. He tried the word again, and the little one's complexion brightened as he nodded eagerly.

"_Hic-up_," the half-dragon said again, a bit brokenly. The youth started to say something rapid and involved, but stopped himself, and just gestured to his chest, repeating the word with only a few other sounds wrapped around it. The dark being only blinked, and the youth rolled his eyes stubbornly. He took one of his hands between his smaller ones, and pressed it firmly against his bony shoulder.

"_Hiccup_," he said insistently, slightly shaking the black hand pressed between green fabric and his own palm.

The half-blooded dragon looked down where his hand enclosed over his small friend's shoulder, and then at the youth's earnest face. He started to grin. Grasping the fledgling's other shoulder with his free hand, the demigod repeated him once more, this time with understanding.

And the little one – Hiccup – laughed and nodded, his hands snatching at the dark forearms excitedly.

Every barrier between them was crumbling away, piece-by-piece.

* * *

**A/n**: HOKAY FINALLY THINGS ARE PROGRESSING GEEZ.

So. Toothless can talk! He just doesn't know the language! I don't think I've actually seen an anthro story where the issue concerns the language more than the ability to speak itself...

Oh and yes. Demigod. That... will be addressed later. :} Mwahahaha...

Man I had such a hard time writing Hiccup getting the leather over Toothless and then trying to mount him _without _sounding like an S&M porno... I'm not even kidding that was a far bigger factor in writer's block than it should have been hahaha. I know I didn't go into detail about how exactly the flying works but that's because I like to skim over things that are STUPID AND MAKE NO SENSE. D: D: Just... I don't know, it's a little saddle on a dude's back, and a smaller dude is using it – and it's not as weird as that sounds because there are wings involved... I hope? :S

REVIEW REPLIES

**Loti-miko**: Oh yes. There will definitely be hints. Of a lemon. Nothing graphic, but... heavy, heavy implications. o_o

**CrazyAboutYugi**: Omg you're too much~ Yea I'm pretty much allergic to dialogue, apparently, but hey, there's gonna be rather an increase now that Toothless is learning Hiccup's language! Also, I'm 22, I have a bachelor's degree, I work full-time, and yes, yes I do watch Riders of Berk. :B My feelings about it are very mixed, but it's fun... would be really amusing if Toothless were anthro in it haha. And yea, the pace is that of a freakin' SNAIL but hopefully it'll work out like really long foreplay, and conclude with an all the more very gratifying climax. ;) And Astrid... well, she'll be a little different, so we'll see what ya think...

**Final Syai**: Lol, yea, as this chapter established, Toothless is a really tough cookie so Hiccup's weight isn't that big a deal for him. :B

**FadedImitation**: There isn't a question here, but I just felt like you need to know how much I appreciated your review... Thank you sooo much!~


	7. Everything We Know is Wrong

**A/n**: Oh. Oh hai. You're still here? Wow you're patient. :,D

And what's this? A title having to do with the actual movie?! Yes well, trying to avoid some of that nonsense from before. (WTH was I thinking with "Hiccup's Quandary"? Who says _quandary_?)

This chapter is poorly put together BUT it does have a little bit of a treat towards the end... which gets kind of awful pretty fast. But it's something. Something that may kind of sort of push the rating limit. Eh you'll see what I mean I guess. :P

* * *

Hiccup lost track of the passing weeks. The young Vikings claimed his mornings from him, and the hungry dragon-captives took greedy bites into his nights. One day in the valley, he grew so tired that he lay back in the grass and rested his eyes – only for Toothless to plop his head down against the small Viking's stomach.

"What the—!" the boy started, staring down into the Night Fury's 'innocent' yellow gaze. He scowled. "I am _not _a cushion!" Hiccup groaned, pushing at the dark-haired head nuzzled into his tunic. It barely budged, only blinking at him with mild agitation and a lazy curl to the dark lips. The boy just sighed and gave up, too heavy with the swaying haze of sleep-loss to wrestle his stubborn friend. So he fell asleep with Toothless under the midday sun, one shared nap of many to follow, between all the flying, the playing, and now the Norse lessons.

The moment the half-beast learned the word "why," Hiccup's life became even more interesting than meeting the scaled man had already made it. That, and "what is it," which Toothless often shortened to "what is," instantly became the Night Fury's favorite phrases. And it drove the freckled teen to near insanity.

That Night Fury took far too much delight in watching the adolescent human fluster and huff. Sometimes he asked "why" after "why," even when he didn't care, even when he already understood, just to make those odd, cherry-blossom lips pinch together with annoyance, while the full, dappled cheeks bunched. The mild boy rarely let his patience slip far from him, but the half-dragon occasionally pushed Hiccup to fling away his notebook and just hold his head in his hands, refusing to answer his friend until his vexed nerves calmed.

Toothless learned new words quickly, but Norse grammar was a boggling knot to painstakingly unravel. It took so long to comprehend the basics of a sentence, but slowly, the Night Fury began to make himself understood to the boy. Though his husky foreign tongue still laced his Norse speech, the clumsy conjugations began to smooth, and the words finally started to fall into the pattern set out for them.

He could understand Hiccup's mutterings, about his village, about the supposed friends who thought him a warrior, about a father gone at sea – not a word about a mother. The Asgardian half-beast listened, until the boy finally saw in his friend's intent, comprehending eyes, that his words no longer wore the shroud of random, alien sounds to him.

But whenever Hiccup tried to ask the question foremost in his mind – what _was _this manlike creature, and were there more like him? – the demigod gave no answer, feigning confusion. He had to understand by now... why would he not tell him?

...

When the Night Fury finally learned the meaning of his nickname, he rolled with hysterics at the boy's feet.

"You know," Hiccup tried to explain sheepishly, "because your teeth, they sort of retract – they, they go back in – so it looks kind of like there's no... teeth?"

Toothless wheezed for air.

"No," he gasped, "teeth!"

Hiccup sighed, eyes rolling back as his friend nearly choked on the notion that a fearsome Night Fury, the unrivaled king of the skies, could be dubbed such a ludicrously harmless name.

"It makes sense," the boy grumbled in his defense, half a smile on his lips despite himself. He kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, arms folding at his chest – though not in the tall, prideful way his father might clutch at his thick biceps. Rather, his hands closed and tucked themselves under his sleeves, and his shoulders curved in, like he was cold.

"Well what would you rather be called? Do you... have a name?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Hiccup right away. When it did, his eyes sought the Night Fury's with a wondering frown. The half-dragon's grin slipped away.

"Yes," he said simply. His brows met, and he sat upright as his coal-black pupils narrowed and turned upward, silently traversing the Norse language for the match to his native tongue. Then he spoke, slowly, carefully laying out each sound with surprising coherence. "With your words, it's..." He thought some more, before finally choosing the closest foreign brother to his name.

"...Windwalker."

Hiccup blinked, and his parted lips spread with a little grin. "Windwalker, huh?" he murmured.

But the Night Fury shook his head. "No," he said, rising sprightly from his seat. "You say Toothless."

The boy's tilted head followed his friend's movement with confusion creasing at his forehead. "What? But-"

"It's," the creature interrupted, then paused, "...funny." He had to settle with that, even though it didn't quite capture the right meaning. Toothless hadn't yet found the Norse equal to that one word, that perfect fit for every wry mumble from the human's odd, pinkish mouth; every guileless jump or pinch in the lines of his roundish face; each spontaneous, almost marionette-like gesture of his small hands and skinny arms.

He didn't know the word for _adorable_ yet.

The Night Fury just smirked playfully at Hiccup, who looked no less confused but nonetheless shook his head and sighed.

"Um, okay..."

...

The bee swerved between narrowing yellow eyes, humming away with oblivious bliss, and found its perch upon the scaly mass of the Night Fury's nose. Toothless growled, fixing his cross-eyed glare on the striped beetle. Then he shook his head furiously, batting at his nose until the bee buzzed frantically out of his clutches. The half-beast glowered after the insect, a little shaken from the encounter, but victorious, nonetheless.

He turned when a strange, strangled sound rose from the boy at his side. The human's eyes were huge, and his lips held together so tight that dimples emerged near the curving corners of his mouth. He made the sound again, like a choke, and his chest lurched. Then Hiccup's eyes fell shut, and slow, airy huffs of laughter shook him until he actually collapsed, and his lips opened with hysterical giggles.

For once, Toothless did not share his friend's amusement. He huffed, watching crossly as the boy gripped his sides as though they were splitting.

"Y-your – face!" he gasped, looking near tears.

The half-dragon growled slightly at his friend on the ground, laughing away at him. He'd bettered the beetle – what could Hiccup possibly find so silly? But as he glowered, an evil thought possessed him.

"Wha – hey!"

Hiccup's gleeful noises abruptly ceased, as he found himself suddenly flung over the Night Fury's shoulder like a potato sack.

"Hey!" he said again, squirming against the scaly hide. "Put me down you dolt! What do you think you're—"

When he finally caught a glimpse over his shoulder at the Night Fury's destination, the boy halted.

"_No_," Hiccup said firmly, struggling harder in his friend's iron grasp. "Do not – don't even _think _– no, no, no, no, n-aah!"

And with that, Toothless tossed his little friend into the lake.

The boy re-emerged a few moments later, sputtering, hair in his eyes and sopping sleeves hanging from his outstretched arms. Toothless cackled, and Hiccup glared at him through his drenched bangs. He kicked at the shallows towards the half-dragon, just missing him, so the beast retaliated in kind with his tail. Then to Hiccup's surprise, the fire-breather leapt at him suddenly, knocking them both into the water, and the juvenile battle continued from there.

Half-a-dozen teasing games later, Hiccup staggered out of the lake with his arms around himself. Shivers crept through his small body, and he pushed out shaky breaths between clattering teeth. But the boy had fallen into the water so often, now, this time he was prepared. He darted clumsily to his bag, where he knelt down and unknotted the belt at his waist, peeling the green tunic from his torso.

Water trickled from the boy's pale neck down his slender back, dappled like his face with little brown freckles. The droplets shimmered in the sun against bare skin, shifting with every minute motion he made. He pulled his head out of the wet shirt with clenched eyes and a pursed smile, shaking darkened auburn locks out of his face. When his arms were free of the fabric, his palm pushed back sticky bangs, smoothing his disarrayed hair down from his forehead to the base of his neck. The boy's pale, slight chest rose and fell with quick breaths as he leaned over his satchel, searching it with cold clumsiness.

His eyes briefly turned up, and he jumped a little to find the Night Fury's yellow stare right in front of him. But the dark, very round pupils were not on Hiccup's face.

Leather-like fingers brushed Hiccup's shoulder, running gently down his back. The boy froze under the touch, staring at the grass beneath them awkwardly as his face burned with rising blood.

"What is?" the draconic being murmured.

"Ah," Hiccup said, trying to just stay calm and still while the Nightfury's hand grazed over him. "Skin?"

Toothless kept staring at the first human he'd seen shed of their outer layers – if only partway. Hiccup was a bony youth, but hacking wood and molding metal had firmed his shoulders and trimmed his arms. The baggy clothing gave the appearance of being a little smaller than he truly was. Though he was short and thin, it wasn't the shapeless skin and bones one expected to find underneath.

Hiccup pulled slowly back from his friend's touch, throwing a dry shirt over his head and yanking it down over him, looking anywhere but into the half-dragon's burning eyes. Toothless withdrew his hand and tucked his fingers into his palm, folding with it the feel of soft, moist warmth.

...

One day everything changed.

It began long before that day, somewhere in the games and the laughter and the touches that were starting to linger. Something thickened in their eyes when they met. Something was starting to swallow them both up, spreading its jaws around them, poised to crash down on the human and the demigod at any moment.

They ventured off the island that day, flying over sea and rock. Hiccup fell from the Night Fury's back, but found his hand before they reached jagged stones below. The two put themselves back together like pieces of the same whole, and when Toothless' wings opened again, they weaved through the canyons in their path with ease. Weeks of practice taught them to read the meanings in one another's nudges, the quick glances between their eyes, the brief word here and there, and the small squeezes on one or other of the half-dragon's shoulders. So well did they fly together, never would you guess they were two separate creatures, and not one.

Hiccup spread his arms into the sky around them, letting his eyes close out the wind and his lips part with a wordless call, throwing it to the waters and the cliffs, laughing as they threw it back. Toothless' own unearthly cry followed the human's, and the giddy boy's outstretched limbs fell loosely around his friend's neck. The demigod could hear the grin in Hiccup's voice, could almost feel the smile pressing over his dark locks...

The pair found land again beneath their feet on a beach far from the island's center, far from any other human's watch or care. Once Hiccup leapt down from the Night Fury's back, not a second passed before his friend had him in his arms, and the human had him back, and the laughter had no known end.

Toothless didn't know the words, couldn't remember if he knew, couldn't speak them if he remembered, could only lean into his little friend's smiling face to thank him for this miracle he'd worked.

Hiccup had asked once, absent green eyes falling to the grass, why had Toothless ever been afraid of a boy with twig-like limbs and tripping feet? The demigod could snap the human in two. Where was the threat in a much weaker being?

The Night Fury's impish face had turned solemn. "You... took the sky," the draconic man had said slowly, drawing the boy's round eyes back to his. "You gave it back." The fledgling human was caught in the steady yellow stare, startled to stillness like a fawn as Toothless touched the Viking's arm. "Is not – threat is not... here," he'd murmured with difficulty, before moving his dark hands past Hiccup's ears, sinking into the auburn locks on either side of the boy's head. "_Here _is threat..."

Nothing had ever struck the divine being down before. Nothing was more dangerous than the skinny little human. But with that same power that downed a demigod, the boy returned what he'd taken from the Night Fury, and brought a lopsided smile and a gentle touch to every grounded day. He was a creature unlike any the descendant of gods had ever known.

The air between the embracing friends seemed to thin, and somewhere the laughter slowed to quiet pants.

Since the Night Fury first touched the hidden layer of skin beneath the human's furs, every brush of scaly fingers stretched longer than the last. Every grasp over the human's slim shoulders, every shrouding fold into the demigod's sinewy chest, every closing breath between slightly parted mouths – it all threw a fog over Hiccup's eyes. It pushed back his voice and locked it in his throat. It sealed all sound but the violent thrum of his own heart.

It would not let thought swim to his mind through the flood of sensation.

So when the curled back of the demigod's hand traveled down from the edge of the human's heated cheek, when fingertips skimmed the surface of his thin dry lips, when Hiccup laughed like a whisper and turned his face down, when Toothless slipped the scaly digits of his hand underneath the boy's chin, when he guided his roundish face back up, when his thumb swept like the sudden throb of a static shock over Hiccup's lower lip, when his face leaned in, in, nose-to-cheek, cheek-to-lips, when his mouth brushed over the edge of Hiccup's own, the human didn't push away.

He kissed him.

Hiccup barely understood what it was, didn't recognize it from the furious clash of mouths between a squirming barmaid and the warrior pinning her to him. It was only another battle he'd never learned to wage, never grasped the brutal rules – except one...

The demigod's lips gently pressed Hiccup's apart, pushed against them, along them, leading them in a foreign dance of slowly tilting faces and rolling jaws.

It wasn't a fight, so how could the Viking defend? How could he begin to know what they were doing...

Claws sank through the fabric of Hiccup's tunic, just grazing his skin. The boy's fingers clenched over the Night Fury's shoulders, palms rubbing into the wiry muscle, and when the half-dragon at last set the human's lips free, the willing captives followed their captors, brushing softly over them until the two pairs locked together again.

The demigod's hold left Hiccup's chin, and his scaly hand slid through auburn tufts to the base of the young Viking's scalp. Their bodies pressed closer, harder, and the boy's voice leapt weakly in his throat to escape its dry confines. A low, rumbling growl from the Night Fury echoed his small friend's quivering whine, devoured it. Hiccup let his hands stray, didn't care where they roved, felt them slide over the toned upper half of his strange friend's arms, arms that snapped metal easily as a grass blade, arms more powerful than any human's, than _ten _human's – arms that never struck or snatched, arms that surrounded, like shields to the spearing reach of humans.

In a gasping second, Toothless broke them apart, and as the boy's mouth fell open, the Night Fury's jagged teeth surrounded his swollen lower lip, and closed gently over the moist flesh with a light tug. The human's startled moan drove the half-dragon's throaty purr to a sudden, possessive snarl.

So quickly, the demigod's grasp fell to the boy's bony hips, and in one steady sweep of motion Hiccup's feet left the ground. His thighs were opened and brought around the Night Fury's middle, dark arms lifting him up until their two pairs of cloudy eyes were level. The boy's fingers raked into the knotty black hair, legs hooking about his friend while the clawed hands crept over the small of his back. Wide myrtle stared, rapt, into a sea of tiny scales, into two yellow islands, and along a chasm that blew salty gusts against the dampened brim of Hiccup's open mouth. Their faces hovered, like a pair of frail-winged moths over the flame of the other's lips, until Toothless seized his human with another round of kisses, and together they braved the fire between them.

The demigod's growls stirred a gale up from the pit of Hiccup's belly, and his voice cried out for its freedom against its prison door, sealed with Night Fury's lips, stoppered with his thick tongue – oh! The slide of the muscle inside his mouth, lightly forked at the tip, slowly rubbing down his own tongue, tasting him, oh gods above, what _was_ this?

Before the unsaid could long be thought, the Night Fury was down on a knee, boy still wrapped around him, and then Hiccup's back hit sand, scattering the sluggishly retreating grains. Windwalker was over him, clawing through his shirt, ripping the tight-knit threads apart, bearing down on the youth with merciless attacks on his lips.

Their sounds rose with the quiet lull of waves against shore, the distant cry of gulls, the whisper of a breeze. Under it all were rustling clothes, breaking gasps, rolling dragon-moans, the sound of bodies slowly rocking together. Heat was everywhere, fingertips to toes, but the burn flared to a sudden, _unbearable_ throb in the waking flesh between the boy's spread thighs.

Then Hiccup knew.

Finally, a desperate thought clambered through the onslaught of his feverish senses. He recognized the mad symphony to which this prelude belonged.

A chill stabbed through the heat, ran up his bones, turned the beat beneath his ribcage frantic.

In his village, a man only took another man like a woman for one reason – to shame him.

To hurt him.

The boy pushed his palms up between them, shot open his eyes and reclaimed his lips just enough to work words from them.

"S-stop," he whispered, and it became a chant, said over and over until the Night Fury stilled.

His friend – his _only _friend – blinked his bemused yellow eyes at the terrified face below his.

"Hiccup?"

The half-blooded Asgardian's brow shifted with worry. He reached for the boy's cheek, but the human squirmed away from Toothless' touch.

"Let me go."

Something laced the boy's voice when he said it, something cold and sharp as a knife's edge, slipping between them to make one last formidable barrier. And neither could cross it.

Toothless let his friend wriggle out from under him, clambering to his boot-clad feet to distance himself from the creature that so nearly... Hiccup breathed, clasping his arms to rub out the shiver climbing his limbs like a venomous insect. Head bowed, eyelids batting back the burn welling beneath them, the boy finally spoke again.

"Why?" asked the troubled human, turning to the one he thought was a friend, before that cruel trick he tried to play, the kind of trick that could always be held over him, that even his father couldn't fight if it were found out, that stripped a man of rank, of name, of worth, beyond that of a worm's. "I thought... why would you do that?"

But the Night Fury, standing slowly, wore nothing on his face but the purest bewilderment. Could he... not _know_?

What must that be like, Hiccup wondered, not to know? He couldn't remember a time ever in his life when he wasn't surrounded by that truth, in one shape or another. The lesson was always clear – weakness kills. And in the stories told by drunken warriors round the night fires, when a battle was lost, when a conquest was made, when a vanquisher drove the last nail into his victim's defeat... death was a mercy. The conqueror might instead torture, enslave, do any terrible thing. And sometimes, he would take him like a man takes a woman, tell the story again and again, laugh and claim that the defeated warrior whimpered and begged for more, as though a man _relishing _submission were the maddest notion in the wide world. It was the way of the weakest, and they had no home here.

What was it like... not to know...

The boy shook the question from his head, keeping his eyes to the windswept sand at his boots.

"Let's... let's just go home."

* * *

**A/n**: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...

Okay.

So maybe this is extremely random and unwelcome in this story, but some research suggests that the way Vikings viewed homosexuality depended mostly on whether you were submitting or dominating. Kind of like the Romans. If a guy screwed a guy, meh, no big deal. If a guy _gets _screwed by a guy, it's a different story, because then they're demoted to a womanly level, and women got no rights. -_-

I know, in this particular rendition of the Berkian Vikings, women _do _have a fairly equal place in their society... _but _I think I mentioned somewhere that they haven't really had a woman leader yet? Planning to explain in later chapters that, while chicks are better off here than in _some _societies, they're still lower on the ladder than guys in general. Also some implication that in their courtship, there's usually a struggle of some kind. _No _struggle whatsoever would be ludicrously submissive by their standards, from either gender... I guess.

Yeah I don't actually know what I'm doing durrrrr XP

I guess the bottom line is that Hiccup is very, very inexperienced, and his only understanding of homosexual sex is the barbaric, non-consensual variety. Only his sense of consensuality is a little... vague? When they made out, Hic literally did not know what the crap they were doing at first, because his only exposure to sexuality in general is a pretty rough and tumble impression. And all he knows is that when guys do it with other guys, the purpose and the result is shame. Sooooo once he realized wait, this is a sex thing, he just kind of assumed that's what was happening. :(

Complain away to me! It's okay, I know it's a bit dramatic, and what isn't kind of dire is just straight up cheesy~

Thanks for reading though!


	8. Dragon Den

A/n: Hiiii I'm alive I promise ._. So get ready for exposition to the max and super mega indulgence. Like this is my guilty-pleasure fic it really is I'm not even trying to keep it tempered anymore we're just gonna run with the gushiness :B

This is a really different account of the events from the original I guess... welp.

Hopefully it'll still help clear up a couple things and shit...

Thanks for sticking it out folks~

* * *

The little human wouldn't raise his eyes to the demigod's searching stare.

Not another word passed from him, no matter how many times his name fell from the Night Fury's lips. Hiccup was gone long before the sun had fallen, leaving his companion alone without answers in the valley.

It wasn't so long ago, now, when humans once repulsed the half-beast. Their ways were wrought with blood and greed. Though they bore the image of their gods, their hearts matched the likeness of a wasp – tiny, thorned at the base, and humming the same monotonous war songs.

So the Night Fury once believed.

What he hadn't known, the freckled fledgling showed him. Man was a versatile beast. From the same race that bred thickset, axe-wielding men and women came a boy, small and clever. Like dragons, humans divided into different kinds – some dragons bore two heads and others one, some men thirsted for war and others for knowledge.

All Windwalker had ever seen of man was their likeness to the foulest of their creators. He had not known some carried the minds and hearts of the wisest, fairest and boldest of Asgard.

And though Asgardian prowess filled the Night Fury's veins, fused with the instinctive might of his dragon half, it was a power only measured in battle. The great gods, for all their mortal worship, took little interest in Midgard's plights. Asgardians were almighty warriors – not shepherds. They only came and went as they saw fit, seldom appearing before mortal eyes, and took whatever they liked –the birth story of all demigods began this way.

The gods could tear continents apart, and lift the seas above the mountains, but their power could not compare to that of one little human youth. What he possessed was another sort of power, one even the gods knew not – kindness.

Strength of limb and nerve holds nothing to comprehensive empathy, tempered with insight and kindled with care. It is the crux upon which War's final demise lies.

It was what made Hiccup far more divine than even a draconic demigod.

Hence, Windwalker had fallen for the youth, in slow but sure steps. It was a dance he'd never taken part in before, but the music began when the boy first bared that sweet, crooked little smile at the Night Fury. At first he mistook the tune for a more familiar one – that of bodily want alone. But this, this was something he'd never led any partner in before.

Until now, he'd believed this partner could hear the same song. But Hiccup, it seemed, was deaf to it.

The Night Fury in the valley curled inward like a feline, wings shrouding his face from the closing sunlight, tucking a broken heart away beneath scaly limbs.

And as darkness encircled the Viking village, Hiccup crept under his own shroud of an old woolen blanket atop his bed. He disappeared beneath it, wondering who, or what, he really was.

...

Come dawn, Hiccup woke to many voices, screaming with guttural glee. Stumbling in the lingering shadow of last night's misery, the boy wandered to his door and let in the sun. As the shouts in the village streets began to cohere from a blur of noise to a series of words, Hiccup was struck with sudden wakefulness.

"The ships! The ships are here!"

"They've come back!"

"They've come home!"

For a second, Hiccup's eyes blew wide, and his lips lifted. He made to spring towards the bustle of villagers, but he halted, a hand leaning on the doorway. The brightened face fell to gloom again.

His father was back.

Even from where he was, Hiccup could see the Viking warriors striding into the streets. At their head, Stoick marched, tallest and proudest of all his army. Yet the scowl strewn under his thick red moustache and the testy flash of sharp eyes spoke of a heavy wound to that pride. He had returned empty-handed.

He had returned from one disappointment... how would he fare meeting with another?

The boy started to back away into the house, but his retreat was too late. His father caught the green-clad movement at his door from where he walked. Hiccup awaited the tight, grimace-like smile, or the pretense of not seeing him. But strangely, when his father saw Hiccup, the steely discontent peeled away in the wake of a full, pleased grin.

In seconds, he was right at their doorstep, clapping a gigantic hand against Hiccup's shoulder.

He looked happier to see his son than Hiccup could remember Stoick ever showing. It brought a little light to yesternight's muddled gloom, and the initial, short-lived burst of joy at seeing his father again returned to his freckled features.

"Well, son, Gobber tells me you're shaping into a real dragon-slayer!"

Again, the excited little smile wavered and fell.

...

Along the winding path through the forest, heavy limbs carried Hiccup slowly back to the valley. _Tomorrow_, Gobber's voice echoed in his mind, _you will have your first kill_.

The warriors were back, tired, hungry, and thirsting for blood. Taming tricks weren't going to quench anyone this time... the village expected the finest young dragon fighter to spill their enemy's guts before a cheering crowd. It was the rite of passage from a boy to a warrior, Hiccup's one dream before the world he knew fell apart.

In its place, this untraveled world that at first inspired now frightened him, and threatened to collide with the old world at any moment.

He could not hold them apart for long...

A little chirp in his ear jolted Hiccup from his vexed thoughts. To his great surprise, he found a Terrible Terror, littlest of the dragon breeds, perching quietly on his shoulder. It tilted a yellowish head at the boy, dipping its snout closer to sniff his face. No aggressive show of spreading its sinewy wings, or baring its jagged teeth with a snarl, was aimed at the human, as every dragon had ever done before Hiccup calmed it.

Hiccup slowly reached a hand to the little dragon's horned head, letting it sniff at him until it pressed a scaly cheek against his palm. The island's forests were not so frequented by men as even the surrounding seas... did this tiny creature, with its curious bead-like eyes, not yet _know _the danger of men? Was this how dragons would greet a man if he did not strike first? Was this the true nature of the fearsome beasts – trusting and gentle – before man taught it to despise all skin-clad creatures?

More odd little gurgles sounded, and when Hiccup turned, an entire family of Terrors pattered near him, disregarding the human as though he, like one of the great oaks around them, had merely sprung out of the forest grounds. Two of the smallest ones wrestled playfully, watched by the wary eye of a scaly mother – no different from the scuffling boys and girls back in the village. One of the wrestlers reared back and let out a sharp flame, scaring the other to a trembling cacophony of squeaks. The cocky dragon child then stepped over to one of the bigger Terrors, preparing to throw another spark of fire. But just as his jaw parted, the unimpressed adult spat his flame first, catching in the little one's mouth. There, it seemed to ignite within, smoke trickling from between its slackened jaws as the little Terror curled into an agonized ball. In only a moment, it rose again, shaking off the mishap with childish ease.

"Not so fireproof on the inside, are you?" the boy chuckled.

...

Astrid ran the whetting stone over the gleaming edge of her axe. Peering over her weapon's glint, the warrior maiden's blue eyes narrowed at the little prey in her sights.

Hiccup's secrets would finally be known – the maiden's axe would see to that.

Leaping down from her perch upon one of the clearing's boulders, Astrid stared down the startled youth in her path. Before Hiccup could breathe a shaky word, she lashed out a hand and caught hold of the boy's neck.

"Talk," she demanded curtly, raising her weapon above his saucer-wide eyes.

"W-well that – might be eas-easier if – I could _breathe_!" spluttered her victim.

A fierce scowl overtook the maiden's pretty features. Heaving her wiry frame, Astrid threw the boy against the ground, shoving her axe beneath his chin. "Nobody fights as you do," she hissed. "Did you win a witch's favor? Or maybe the spell is _yours_..."

Hiccup raised quaking hands, eyes never leaving the weapon flushed coolly against his skin. "No – what? I, I don't know what you mean... Astrid, please-"

"Hiccup!" the girl growled, deep and wild like the very beasts she despised. "You may have the others fooled. But I have _seen _you, Hiccup. You're no dragon-slayer. Something else is at work, and you _will _tell me," she pushed the blade until skin reddened, drawing a strangled yelp from the boy, "_what _it is."

Before the warrior could have her answer, a low, hideous snarl from behind her sent an ice-like chill through her veins. The trained dragon-fighter abandoned her victim to swivel around. Cool blue eyes grew wide.

An adversary like no other bared its serrated teeth at the maiden. She had barely the time to lift her weapon before the creature barreled into her, bringing her down to the grassy earth like a hay-stuffed doll. Gasping to recapture the air knocked from her lungs, the maiden reached desperately for her relinquished weapon. With her other hand, she tried to push away from the beast, but it closed in over her. Balling shaky fists, Astrid jabbed with a grinding bellow at one of the huge, demonic eyes above her. While the creature hissed, she drew out from under it, hurrying to her axe.

But as she lifted it to meet the recovered hellbeast, she ready to behead a scaly monster, he ready to rip the yellow-hair from her skull, Hiccup came suddenly between them.

"No, no, no, no!" was his shouted mantra, standing in the girl's path and facing the black demon.

And miraculously, when the murderous yellow eyes fell to the boy, the demon halted.

"It's okay," Hiccup soothed with breathless insistence, stepping closer to the almost man-like creature. "She's a friend."

"What are you _doing_?" the girl crowed, axe lowering by a hair's width.

The boy turned. In a few ranted words, he tried to sum up weeks of observation, tried to make her understand what he knew. But she only backed away, glaring like the boy spoke for the devil. "Astrid, he didn't understand he was just – he's not dangerous, I swear it!" he stepped after the warrior, but she was turned round and sprinting now, back to the village to gather the others.

"Astrid, wait!"

As the maiden turned round a tree, she leapt back from the dark figure that appeared in her path with a scream. "Astrid!" the boy's voice called again from a ways behind. The demon's terrible yellow eyes narrowed.

"Astrid?" it repeated thickly.

The girl stared, morbid fascination twisting her open lips. "Y-you speak?" she choked.

A black brow lifted slightly. "You... listen?" it returned stonily.

"Astrid you can't tell the others!" Hiccup puffed, catching up at last. "You don't understand, he's just like us – they all are – dragons, they're, they're just like us!"

"Like _us_?" the shield-maiden balked, turning to the boy. "_Look _at him!"

"Look at _you_!" Hiccup blurted.

The girl paused. For the first time, she watched anger quirk over the boy's soft features. But as quickly as it settled, it abated, like a ripple fading from a watery surface.

"Just – Astrid, listen to me, _please_, it—"

A familiar chirp interrupted the boy, catching the fair-haired Viking's attention. "Oh no..." Hiccup muttered.

There was a scampering of clawed feet from all around. The very little Terrors from earlier approached the harmless human with happy gaits. One of them even brushed Hiccup's leg appreciatively, arching its back against him in cat-like fashion.

Astrid hefted her axe.

"No!" Hiccup urged quietly, reaching for her weapon. She wrestled it out of his grasp, but a darker grip took hold of the long wood handle, squeezing until it snapped in two. "Astrid, just watch," the boy pleaded. "Trust me."

With little choice, the girl regarded the tiny devils spitefully.

"They'll scratch our eyes out," she warned, knowing of what she spoke from past battles.

"When he attacked you," Hiccup replied, gesturing to the draconic man, "you would have taken _his _eyes out if you could."

The girl scoffed. "He's a _dragon_. You finish them or they finish you."

Sighing, Hiccup knelt slowly beside the creatures at his feet. "There's more to it than that..." he mumbled, holding out his hand tentatively to the tiny beasts.

The littlest Terror clambered with clumsy enthusiasm over the backs of those in his way, nostrils flaring and head tipping this way and that as it drew near the human's upturned hand. "Hiccup!" Astrid's hushed voice tried to caution him, before he lost a finger. But he stayed still while the creature poked its snout at his knuckles. Very gently, the boy ran his touch up and down the smooth green neck, drawing delighted gurgles from the Terror. It leapt right up onto his forearm, climbing his limb with excited steps. Another pressed against his open palm beseechingly, still another vying for attention by hopping on his boot.

Not a one of the creatures tried to hurt him.

Astrid's glare turned unsure, the ill-tempered lines of her brow skewing into perplexed contours. "...How are you doing that?" she murmured. Even with this display, only some kind of witchcraft could suit her simple philosophy as explanation.

Hiccup's reply struck through an age-old mentality to draw a gaping hole from it – "I'm not trying to hurt them."

The maiden was not dimwitted, nor was she one to deny what her own eyes witnessed. Yet, ancient constructs do not fall easily, however far and wide its cracks. Astrid kept quiet, watching and wondering very, very gradually, what this boy's discovery could mean...

...

Under a darkening sky's shadowy protection, Toothless and Hiccup brought Astrid back to the village – by wing. She shrieked and cursed in the beginning, thrashing in the demigod's hold (he did not hide a smug grin at her discomfort). But when she opened her eyes to what was around her, the fear and rage yielded in the face of the sky's untold beauty.

When the maiden was finally returned to the ground, along the secluded outskirts of the village, she turned to the boy descending from his draconic companion's back.

She was beginning to understand, now. That much was clear in the softening rims of her eyes, and the traces of a smile along her ever-solemn lips.

"Hiccup," she said, lacking any more words to express tonight's revelations than his gently uttered name. But then her brow stiffened. "What will you do? Tomorrow..."

Tomorrow was the dragon match between Hiccup and one of the captives... the boy frowned, unconsciously squeezing his upper arm beneath his palm. "I don't know..."

When she was gone, Toothless and Hiccup took flight again into now deep, dark night. Before their valley could be reached, the winds carried an odd trill to their ears. It echoed faintly on the ocean mist, like a distant rumble of Thor's thunder.

The unsuspecting boy could barely follow what happened next.

All at once, Toothless fought to change their course, pressing out of sync with his rider's whims. His massive body shook them both and threatened to plummet them into the sea below, leaving Hiccup struggling to accommodate the new directions.

"What are you doing!" he called in a panic, straining to revive the connection that had so suddenly snapped between them. But as he reached for his friend's flattened ears, and tried to look on his dark face, the being only snarled and shook his touch away. "Toothless! _Toothless_..." But his friend wouldn't heed him.

Vast silhouettes peeked through the thick fog – dragons, of all shapes and sizes, all flying in one direction. Hiccup ducked close against his companion, whispering his name and shaking urgently against the harness. What was _happening_? Where were they all headed?

Soon, as the mists thinned, the boy's anxiously squinting eyes could make out the wide mouth to a mountainside cave, where all the dragons dove. In the mistless dark, where brief sparks from between jagged jaws were the only light, Hiccup noticed that all the dragons carried with them village animals, slaughtered an dripping in their claws. Each flew its kill over a huge, glowing pit, and dropped the meat into its depths.

One slow, panting Gronkle offered only a little fish as its kill. As it hovered over the hole, something stirred from within.

Hiccup gasped.

Jaws the size of an entire house erupted from the pit, snatching up the Gronkle easily as a fly. Teeth no smaller than Hiccup himself emerged from the dark, six colossal eyes peering out of the enormous head, and the cave went wild with shrill panic from the surrounding dragons.

The boy shook his friend's shoulders. "T-Toothless," he hissed, "we have to go..."

But his friend was still, leaning against the cavern walls and staring at the nearing monster.

"Toothless!"

Hiccup finally leapt off of the scaly man, running in front of him. "_Toothless!_" The half-beast was caught, as though a trance held him in place and stole the brightness to his eyes. Warm palms reached around his face, drawing his transfixed stare downward.

Fern green eyes and spotted skin filled his vision.

"_Windwalker_..."

Then he awoke.

The monster's spell left Toothless when his name whispered out from the little one's trembling lips. Blinking out of his daze, the demigod looked up – the monster looked back, and parted its jaws.

A small shout was all Hiccup could let out when he was slammed to the cave's curved wall, sheltered with the Night Fury's body when the flames came for them. He could only press back into his friend's sure grip, wincing at the heat nearing his sides.

At the first lull in the fiery breath, Toothless urged Hiccup onto his back, and the two barely escaped the second infuriated blast.

...

Hiccup didn't understand.

"It's a dragon?" he asked again, brows together.

Again, the Night Fury hissed, shaking his scaly head. "She is death."

"But," Hiccup started, wandering nearer to his friend. They were back in the valley, talking under the stars. "What is it she wants?"

"To eat."

The demigod still shook with fury. He despised the power she lorded over the dragons, stripping them of free will with her song. Even he could not break free of it on his own, should he draw too near. What she almost made him do tonight, almost let him hurt... if he could snap that gigantic neck, he would.

"This is why the dragons raid the village," the boy realized. "But – but can't she find another food source? Maybe if, if we could get her to understand –"

"She doesn't care," the Night Fury cut in. "She eats. She doesn't listen."

"But –"

"_Hiccup_," Toothless hushed him. "Our kind are... not one."

For the first time, the boy began to see. A final dimension unfolded for Hiccup - dragons were like humans.

Humans had tyrants. Humans had blind treachery.

Dragons had the Red Death.

* * *

**A/n**: So we went from personal drama and gaydentity issues to crap ok let the power of cute little animals sway you, to sHIT that's a freakin' huge-ass dragon wat!?

Omg I think there's only... four chapters left? Maybe five there might actually be an extra, M-rated chapter mwahahaha :B We're getting there!

...Wait shit I still haven't addressed the loin cloth thing have I?! Oops... um, let's just say Hiccup's used to it and it's real uh _sturdy_ and protects everything well, so like... I dunno, it doesn't have much of an impact at this point? Yeah uh heheh... idek.

Anyway, thanks for your support and reviews and just everything~


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